


Traveler

by sarcasmandcynicism



Series: Traveler [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Explicit Language, F/M, Fade Dates, Friendship, Gen, Guns, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern OC, OC is no damsel in distress, Romance, SCIENCE!, Sarcasm, Scars, Slow Build, Survival, Time Travel, Trust Issues, Violins, a fell-into story... kinda?, not a self-insert, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 135,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmandcynicism/pseuds/sarcasmandcynicism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My life is a lesson in change. It all started when I was pulled from my comfortable, average life and thrust into the unknown. That was ten years ago, and I've been thrust into a lot of unknowns since. I thought I understood, thought I knew the rules. And then fate decides to put me somewhere... maybe not so unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When things still make sense... sort of

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello, hello! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so we'll see how that goes. I am open to constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age and anything associated with it is not mine, of course. I wish it was because then I could pay off my student loans.

I feel the familiar, tell-tale buzzing at the base of my skull. It always starts subtle and works its way up to demanding. I've known for days now that it's time to go. I sling my pack over both shoulders, fasten the strap securely around my waist, and bend to pick up my violin case. It's the one truly frivolous item I allow myself. Inside a sturdy metal case sits the battered and much-loved instrument, one of only a few items from home still in my possession. There are also a few guns tucked away in hidden compartments to help justify carrying it around.

_And if that doesn't just describe me perfectly now…_

I quickly glance up at the dying twin suns hanging in the sky then let my eyes sweep across the harsh landscape before me.

_This fucking planet._

No, I won't be missing it, that's for sure. With its stifling heat, lack of sentient beings, and giant, creepy ass insects. I give a shudder and rub at the weeks-old bite mark on my left forearm. My next destination can have people who want to roast me over a fire and eat me, but as long as the insects are moderately small, I'll be delighted. Maybe even provide the seasoning.

Drawn out of my thoughts by the insistent buzzing in my head, I clutch my belongings tighter as my vision blurs and swirls. I squeeze my eyes shut and just wait for it to be over. Closing my eyes is a necessity. Whatever is left of my dignity refuses to puke in between dimensions. Eventually, the buzzing and swirling begin to abate and I feel a new world forming around me. Or, more accurately, I feel myself reforming in a new world.

Tentatively, I let new air fill my lungs as I open my eyes to blinding white. Tentatively, yes, because I once had the misfortune of arriving on an oxygen-poor planet. That was my first encounter with non-oxygen-based life forms. Thanks to my weird version of luck, they were intelligent enough to quickly figure out that I, conversely, _am_ oxygen-based. Unfortunately, I then had to spend months in a lab being poked and prodded, so all-in-all not the best first impression.

My first breath doesn't bring quite enough oxygen, prompting a second gasp and then a third. All I can think is "damn it, not again _,_ " but my faster breathing brings a bit of clarity. The last planet I was on claimed an oxygen-rich atmosphere and my body had adjusted accordingly. The lower percentage here – wherever that may be – is a shock to my system, but I seem to be getting a sufficient amount anyways.

_Ok, don't panic. Panic helps no one._

I lower myself to the ground and concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths and calming down. It seems to help but my head feels fuzzy and slow. Still breathing heavily, I finally take in my surroundings. Snow. Lots of snow. And I am sitting in it. In fact, it is melting under my ass and soaking into my pants.

_Lovely._

"Shit," I mutter as I quickly stand and brush myself off.

I continue my examination of the area. It appears to be a mountainous region.

"Are those fir trees? They sure look like your average, run-of-the-mill fir trees… That's a good sign." I haven't seen a normal tree in what feels like forever. I like normal trees, they don't try to eat you. Wonderfully mundane.

I look up at the sky, then, and shrink back. Directly above me is a very normal blue but, in the distance, I can see something very _not_ normal. A swirling black hole in the sky emitting a grotesque green color. In all my travels, I've never seen anything quite so unnatural. Even trees with a taste for flesh. The sight of it causes a little niggling in the back of my mind but I brush it off.

Taking out my coat and shrugging it on, my mind whirls with unanswered questions. But the sun – only one, thankfully – is already making its descent and the wind is bitterly cold.

"Alright," I rub my now-gloved hands together. "Shelter first, questions later."

And so I begin trekking through the snow

A few hours of walking later, I spot a shallow cave in the distance. The sun is resting on the horizon now; it will have to do. I unhook my bow from its place on my pack and notch an arrow – one of only two left, I note. Creeping forward on light feet, arrow at the ready, I scan the cave and surrounding area.

_Clear…_

Of anything resembling a predator, that is. There are a few of those pink, hairless rodent… _things_ I've been seeing. I single out a rather plump one. Bowstring drawn taut, breath held, I loose the arrow. It strikes home, for the most part.

_Sloppy._

The poor creature is still struggling. I berate myself for the less-than-ideal shot as I pull out my knife and end its misery. When I look up, the rest of them are scurrying away as fast as possible in the deep snow.

"Aw, and here I was hoping we could all hang out around the campfire and roast marshmallows together… We can prop up Buddy, here. No one will notice." I smile wryly to myself.

I retrieve and clean my arrow, then stash it away. I take my kill a ways away from the cave to gut and clean it, digging a small hole with my knife and burying the organs. I finally notice the creature's paws and how they look a little like human hands, which makes me cringe a bit.

"You've got creepy little grabby hands, my friend."

I continue to assess the animal. In my experience, rodent-like creatures aren't typically poisonous. Well, there was that one time… but overall… Anyway, I figure my chances are pretty good and it's already furless, so that's a plus. I take my kill back to the cave, gathering some dry-ish wood on the way. It takes little time to get a small fire going with my flint and soon the pink animal is roasting over the fire. I finally allow myself some time to think.

"Ok, what do I know about this place so far?" I ask myself. "One sun, and it looks like..." I peer out and up at the cloudless night sky, "two moons."

I breathe in, "A normal amount of oxygen, familiar-looking flora." I look down at the slowly browning rodent skewered on a stick, "Unfamiliar fauna."

I cut into the meat to check if it's done and decide it needs a bit longer. I sigh and lean back on my hand, letting my eyes slip closed for a moment as exhaustion sets in.

"And no signs of intelligent life so far..."

My meat is soon done and I make quick work of consuming it all. Pulling a dented metal cup out of my bag, I scoop up some snow and melt it over the fire. The water is refreshing and clean as I chug it down. I then throw the picked-over carcass of the rodent thing on the fire to burn the bones clean. No need to invite trouble. Rubbing my full stomach, I lean against the back wall of the "cave."

"I'm not dead yet. Good signs, good signs."

I pull my bag and violin case closer to me and attempt to get comfortable, without much success. I debate the pros and cons of keeping my arms free versus staying warm before pulling them back into my jacket and hugging them around my torso. Slowly, my eyes flutter closed and I let myself drift into a light sleep.


	2. Ghost jerk circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now, this story is rated for language and violence only but that will change. Again, constructive criticism is welcomed. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age and whatnot = not mine.

I wake with the sun the next morning. The fire has long gone out but I kick some snow over it just in case. After taking care of some necessary biological needs, I grab my things and start walking. I'm fairly certain my life is ninety-percent walking at this point, but unless I find people, there's not much else to do.

I hum an improvised tune as I walk in an attempt to entertain myself. There's a lot of snow here… some nice looking mountains… not much else, though. Talking aloud, humming, even singing to myself are the norm anymore. Months, years even, can go by where I don't see another intelligent being. And even when I do, there's always a new language to learn, different and strange customs to remember. There is also the ever present threat that they'll scream and run away at the first glance of my alien strangeness. I tend to run in the opposite direction in such cases. No more government labs for me, thank you.

I've moved on to softly singing a half-remembered Christmas song when a strange crackling sound has me quickly crouching behind a boulder, all thoughts of music gone. The hair standing up on the back of my neck has me reaching for the pistol at my waist rather than bow and arrow. I've learned to listen to those little hairs over the years. I leave my violin at the base of the rock and slowly make my way toward the sound. A sickly green light can be seen seeping between the branches ahead of me.

_The same light as the hole in the sky?_

My stomach churns with anxiety. Something… is really not right here. I part the branches and quietly slip through. What I see on the other side, in spite of all the weird crap I've witnessed, has me gasping against my will.

_They look like ghosts!_

My mind rebels against the thought. There's no such thing as ghosts. And yet there they are, right in front of me. Green, floaty, whispy things with a head and arms but no legs. My eyes are drawn almost immediately away to a large hole just sitting in mid-air… in the middle of a group of incorporeal beings. It sparks and cracks and weird crystal structures seem to form out of the ground around it. I realize this is the source of the noise I heard. That little something niggles in the back of my mind again, stronger this time, but I don't get a chance to examine it. My gasp was apparently loud enough to draw the attention of the nearest Casper and, in my surprise, I don't notice as it shoots a bolt of something at me. It hits my side and I grunt in pain, staggering backwards and almost collapsing. The skin where it hit burns but I can feel a deeper pain inside my ribcage.

_What the hell?_

There's no external wound that I can see, I'm not bleeding… _what is this?_ I take a second longer than usual to react before raising my gun and firing a few rounds at the thing. It jerks and halts its movement for a moment before continuing to float towards me.

_Well, that was effective... Little hairs, you've betrayed me!_

By now, of course, I have the attention of every friendly ghost in the jerk circle and I can see them preparing to shoot their… whatever… at me. Adrenaline is a beautiful thing, really. It speeds everything up and slows it down at the same time. With the hormone coursing through my body, I am able to assess the situation. There are too many of the things to fight, especially since bullets seem to do little. Maybe if I was at my peak, I could survive the encounter, but my body still isn't used to the oxygen levels here yet. So, I do what any relatively sane person alone in the wilderness would do. I run.

I had already run a couple hundred meters away when I realize that I left my violin behind. Crazy person that I am, I make a sharp turn and run back toward the crackling hole in time and space. I dodge the green bolts being hurled my way but one clips my shoulder as I dive behind the boulder. Grabbing my instrument and cursing myself, I push off from the rock and run as fast as my legs can carry me. I try not to run in a predictable straight line but another bolt hits my right calf, nearly causing me to trip.

_Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck! Keep going!_

I do keep going, keep running, for a long time before I deem it safe. I look behind me, and seeing nothing, my legs give out from under me and I collapse forward into the snow. I roll onto my side and gasp for breath, head spinning. After about ten minutes of just lying there, the pain begins shoving its way into my awareness. I groan and clutch my side, pressing my face into the snow. I need to get up, I know. Need to tend my wounds, find shelter and food again, but all I want to do is lie here. Eventually, I push myself into a sitting position and, from there, to standing. I sway a bit and almost fall over again as I lean down to grab my violin.

I trudge through the snow in search of a suitable place to camp. I was following a small stream in the hope that it would lead me to civilization of some sort, but after my panicked run, nothing looks familiar. There's nothing to do but keep walking – shuffling, really. Half an hour later, like a beacon of hope (I'd swear it was glowing with heavenly light), I see what looks to be a cabin. I hobble faster. Upon closer inspection, I can see that the structure is crumbling – half the roof is caved in – but it's the most beautiful sight I've seen in quite a while. For one, it's a hell of a lot better than a hole in a rock. Most importantly, though, it means there are people here. _People!_ I haven't seen another person in over a year! I step through a large hole in the wall and achieve immediate relief from the freezing winds. With a sigh, I set my stuff down.

_The wood from the cabin would probably work well for a fire._

I gather some of it, along with a bit of tinder, and get a fire going. It doesn't look like I'll be eating tonight. I'm in no shape to hunt and besides, I haven't seen any wildlife since my encounter with the green ghosts. My stomach grumbles but I ignore it in favor of tending my wounds. I pull out my tin of medical supplies and begin removing my many layers of clothing.

_Damn, it's cold!_

I sit close to the fire wearing only a tank top and pants. I pull up the top to examine the wound on my side. A large circle of skin over my ribs is blistered and alarmingly red. Looking at it now, I realize I should have stopped earlier to press some snow to it at least. I grab a clean scrap of cloth from my bag, wet it with a bit of alcohol, and begin cleaning the burn. It's not a pleasant process, to say the least, and I hiss in pain, clenching my teeth. I eye the nearly empty tube of ointment in my med kit. I don't dare bandage a burn dry, though, so I sigh and grab the tube. I use the minimum necessary, press a clean bit of cloth to the wound, then wrap my torso. The wraps are ones I've used many times before; clean but bloodstained. I repeat the process with my shoulder, then my leg, before bundling back up, making note of which items will need mending soon. Pulling my pistol out, I check the clip and realize I only have three bullets left. With a frown, I secure it back in its holster. I bank the fire against the wind and curl up next to it, using my bag as a pillow. With as exhausted as I am, sleep comes quickly for once.

_Maybe tomorrow I'll see people…_


	3. This isn't how it's supposed to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three. Just a warning, it contains somewhat graphic depictions of violence and mental illness.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not my property. I'm just throwing a weird OC in and seeing what happens.

"Run, run, run away  
Buy yourself another day  
A cold wind's whispering secrets in your ear  
So low only you can hear  
Run, run, run and hide  
Somewhere no one else can find  
Tall trees bend and lean pointing where to go  
Where you will still be all alone"

-Kingdom Come by The Civil Wars

* * *

 

_Angry voices mingle together behind me as I run. I conceal myself in the shadows at the edge of the forest and look back at the little village that has been my home for months now. They tried to help me, keep me hidden… my friends. I shouldn't have asked it of them. Should have known I'd only bring them trouble in the end. Should have left them alone. They were paying for their kindness now. From my hidden place, I watch as one of the armored men strikes Pachti across the cheek and he falls to the ground. Wide-eyed, I flinch. I can only hope they'll follow me and leave my friends alone._

Coward.

_I begin moving further into the woods when a loud roaring has me turning back around. Fire. It lights up the night with its intensity, blinding me, and it takes me a moment to realize which building they've set ablaze._

_"No…" I rasp, barely audible. I move out of the shadows in a daze. It's the communal building… at the first sign of trouble, most of the village had hunkered down inside. They are still inside… I can hear their screams._

_"NO!" My own scream rips through the night, louder than the flames, as I race across the clearing. I need to get them out! I round the edge of a house, headed for the building. It's only then that I notice the large, heavy object leaning against the door._

Oh God, they've locked them in…

_Rough hands suddenly grab my arms. I thrash and kick and scream, but the hands only tighten their hold, dragging me away from the horror before me. The acrid stench of burning flesh and fear fills my nose and coats my throat. I can still hear them screaming._

_The hands release me and I fall to my knees, staring in shock as the burning roof collapses in. More screams._ No, no, no, no, no… _Something wet and warm splashes across my cheek, finally drawing my attention to the commotion happening around me. Til pulls her knife out of the man's neck and drops him to the ground. He blooms crimson. She's shouting something at me in her guttural tongue but I can't comprehend it at the moment. I'm too busy examining the steaming blood pooled at my knees._ Is he dead? _Of course he is, his neck is gaping open but I've never seen someone bleed out before and –_

_"Rhynn!"_

_My eyes snap up to lock with Til's. Her strange, luminescent gaze drags me out of my shock and I finally understand what she's been shouting at me._

_"Run!"_

_So I do._

I bolt upright from my hard spot on the ground, gasping and crying. Sharp pain lances through my side and I clutch it as I roll onto my knees and dry heave into the dirt.

I grab a handful of snow and scrub my face with it, breathing heavily. I should've known it would be that dream, what with the burns…

I rummage through my bag for the metal cup, scoop up more snow, and set it on the coals to melt. I sit with my head in my hands as I wait, trying to think of anything but my dream. And failing. That planet was my first… it taught me a lot of hard lessons: how to tell the difference between safe plants to eat and poisonous ones, how to hunt and set traps, how to be self-reliant. It was the first place I witnessed violent death, where I killed another person for the first time, where I started to learn that it's better for everyone if I keep to myself.

I shake off my thoughts and reach for the water, drinking it down and washing out the taste of bile. Stashing the cup in my bag, I begin removing my layers again to check the burns. They seem to be all right; not any worse, at least. I can still feel pain deep below the surface, but if anything internal is damaged, there's not much I can do about it. Not unless I'm able to find a doctor, and even that comes with its own risks. I re-wrap the bandages and pull my clothes back on. Again, I kick snow over the fire, grab my gear, and continue walking.

The sun is high in the sky when I climb a ridge and spot a town in the distance, complete with smoking chimneys and everything. A strange sort of giddiness wells up inside of me and I tamp it down. For all I know, these could be those cannibals I thought of while still on Disgustingly-Huge-Insects Planet. From what I can tell at this distance, the town looks rather rustic. I make sure my gun is hidden under my coat before continuing on. I'd rather not cause widespread panic with my strange, futuristic devices. I chuckle without humor at the thought.

A while later and I'm passing through an unguarded gate in a wall of logs. The cabin ahead of me is in good shape but seems to be deserted. I keep walking until I'm at the edge of the woods and the scene before me is nearly overwhelming. Too long I've gone, void of contact with other people, and here they are… normal people going about their lives, not even noticing the stranger amongst the trees, gazing at them in wonder.

_They look human!_

I let my eyes skip from person to person, taking in their very _Homo sapien_ appearance. It's always interesting discovering the new and different beings in the dimensions I travel to, but seeing these human-like people is comforting. A faint smile touches my lips as I listen to the bustle of life. A few people cast curious glances in my direction, but thankfully turn back to their tasks after a moment. I catch snippets of conversation and am surprised and thrilled to hear English. I haven't spoken English to anyone but myself since my second dimension. That's… really quite nice to hear. I let my eyes drift, taking it all in. High walls surrounding the main part of the town to my left, soldiers in metal armor practicing between tents to my right, a few horses in a pen a short ways away and a blacksmith's beyond that. There are banners flying about and I let myself examine them in bemusement. A strange eye with a sword bisecting it. The smile melts off my face.

It's suddenly all so familiar that it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

_I think I know this place… but why? From where?_

Quick movement catches my eye and I see a young man jogging towards the practicing soldiers.

"Commander Cullen! News for you, ser!" He hands a rolled up piece of paper to a blonde man with fur draped over his shoulders. The blood drains from my face.

_No._

I turn around and walk back towards the abandoned cabin, my head reeling. I round to the backside of it and slide down the wall, dropping my forehead to my knees.

_This isn't happening. I'm still dreaming. Or… or maybe it's just a coincidence! Yeah! The banner just happens to be similar and there just happens to be a blonde guy with a shoulder carpet named Cullen._

A hysterical giggle bubbles out from between my lips.

My breathing is speeding up and I hug my knees. This _can't_ be happening. It doesn't follow the rules. In ten years, _never_ have I been dropped in a dimension that was _anything_ but new and strange. I don't get to know what's going to happen before it happens or even be given a clue on how to survive. That's not how it works. And I certainly don't get dropped smack dab in the middle of a fucking _video game!_

I'm nearly hyperventilating now, my vision blurring around the edges as I rock back and forth. I've seen a lot of strange things and strange people. Each new planet is different and scary and I know exactly jack shit about a situation before being thrust in the middle of it. But I had a routine. My life was predictable in its unpredictability. And now I'm having a break down in a world that should only exist as pixels on a screen. A world full of elves and magic and… and really unscientific things!

**_Tsk, tsk. What have you gotten yourself into this time, Rhynn?_ **

All movement ceases, even breathing. "Nooo…" I moan into my hands.

_No! You were gone! I got rid of you!_

**_I'm always here._ **

"Shut up!" I shout and then bite my lip, hoping no one heard. I clench my fists in sudden anger. I'm better, stronger! I had fixed myself! Or I thought I did… The reappearance of the voice suggests otherwise. The _voice_ had been my constant, if unwanted, companion for many years after the fire. At first I thought maybe it was a helpful consciousness, sent to guide me through my strange new life. I hoped it would tell me what to do, tell me why this was happening to me. I eventually realized there was no purpose to my fucked up life. Realized the voice in my head wasn't a guide, just a twisted portion of my own damaged psyche.

_Breathe, Rhynn. Panic helps no one._

**_Except me, of course._ **

Knowing I'm crazy unfortunately doesn't make me any less crazy. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my dirty, short-cropped hair.

_No. Shhh… It's gonna be ok. Just calm down and pick yourself up off the ground._

**_Yes, let's go talk to some video game characters. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Y'know, except for you knowing the future._ **

I just ignore the voice this time and push myself up off the ground, taking deep breaths. One foot in front of the other, I walk back towards… Haven.

_Well, that's strange to even think._

I try to make myself walk with purpose, like I belong there. I don't think I succeed, really. I pass by the tents, hearing the clanging of swords colliding and refusing to even glance in that direction. I don't want to risk seeing Cullen up close.

_Can't handle that right now._

As I approach the doors, a soldier standing guard stops me. He eyes my attire with suspicion and… _is that a little bit of disgust I see curling your lip there, ser?_ I know how I must look. Like some cliché straight out of a zombie apocalypse film. I don't even want to think about how I smell. Baths were hard to come by on Bug World.

"What's your business here?" He seems slightly unsure of himself and I sigh internally with relief. _I can do this._

"Just a traveler looking for shelter. I'm interested in aiding the Inquisition, as well, if it will have me," I reply smoothly. At least I hope it's smoothly. He narrows his eyes at me, probably trying to look intimidating or something. I struggle not to let my amusement show.

"Alright… just don't cause any trouble," I nod my head in mock solemnity, "and speak to Lady Montilyet up at the Chantry if you're lookin' for work." He moves to open the doors for me.

"Thank you," I give him a small smile as I pass through. I hope it looks sincere.

Inside, the sights and smells of Haven slap me in the face with their realness. My vague memories of game-Haven allow me to pinpoint a few differences between it and real-Haven. I think real-Haven might be bigger. I take a deep breath, bolstering my courage.

_Off to see Josephine. Ok, yeah, we got this._

_**Do we?** _


	4. Job hunting and long-overdue baths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Again, DA is not mine. None of it. La Mer (Beyond the Sea) is also not mine.

I make my way further into the town, studying my surroundings with curiosity and no small amount of disbelief. My stares are returned and I wonder how long it will take for my oddness to be ignored. It probably doesn't help that I've still got a slight limp. Or maybe it's my myriad of scars. I notice some people even curling their lip at me.

_I hope I can bathe soon. You know it's bad when people who bathe maybe once a week are judging you on your lack of cleanliness._

Reaching the top of the second set of stairs, I am suddenly hit with the most mouth-watering smell. My legs take me to the right without conscious decision, directly to a small, cozy-looking building. I push open the door; the scent is stronger in here and my stomach gives a painful squeeze. Quite a few patrons glance up as I enter, but my eyes are glued to the large pot bubbling over the fire.

"Are you hungry?" A soft voice to the left. I turn and see a shy but kind looking woman.

"I… I don't really have any money," I admit, turning to leave and deciding I'll just have to hunt for my dinner as usual.

"Oh, that's fine," I look back over my shoulder at her. "Come, have a seat and I'll fix you a plate," she gestures to one of the tables. I hesitate for a moment before taking off my pack, setting both it and my violin on the floor, and sliding into a chair. I try not to feel the stares burning holes in my skin and focus on the nice lady getting food for me.

"Who is she? Where is she from?"

"I've never seen such strange clothing before."

"She doesn't look like she's bathed a day in her life!"

I roll my eyes and rub self-consciously at a patch of dirt on my hand.

 _They do realize I can hear them, don't they?_ _And to think I missed being around other people…_

**_They want you to hear._ **

"Of course they do," I mutter. I make a scoffing noise and flick a crumb off the table. The minstrel near the fire, who had gone silent upon my entrance, strikes up a tune once again and the music calms my nerves. A plate is placed in front of me and my eyes flick up to the woman's face. She's smiling softly. It's disconcerting.

"Here you go. Enjoy," she sets a large cup of water next to the plate. "I'm Flissa, by the way," she extends a hand.

"Rhynn," I nod, glance at her hand but don't extend mine in return. She doesn't realize it's just because I don't like to be touched. She frowns, dropping her arm, and turns to leave.

**_Good going, asshole. You've offended the person giving you a free meal. Such social skills you have!_ **

_I really don't appreciate your tone, mister._

Sassing the voice makes me feel better. I quickly try to make amends with Flissa.

"Wait!" She glances back at me. "I… thank you. For the food. It means a lot…" I'm horribly awkward but her smile returns and she nods.

"You're welcome."

I turn my attention to the food in front of me. Stew, with red meat and veggies and _spices_! I inhale the wonderful aroma and close my eyes. There's also a hunk of bread and –

_Holy crap, an apple!_

I snatch the fruit off my plate, nearly upending the rest of the food in my haste, and bring it to my mouth. The first bite releases an explosion of flavor onto my tongue. A little sweet, a little tart. Perfect. I can't help the small sound of pleasure that escapes me. The apple is quickly devoured and only the very core is set back on the plate. Fruit is always hard to come by. It's a wonder I haven't gotten scurvy, really. I move on to the stew, making quick work of that as well and mopping up broth with the piece of bread. The cup of water washes it all down.

I sit back and wipe my face with a sleeve. I feel fuller than I have in a long time. It almost makes me want to cry, but I detest crying in front of others, so the emotion is swallowed down just like the food prior. I cast a quick glance around the room, noticing that many are still staring at me.

_Probably criticizing my poor manners._

The girl a couple tables over looks familiar. She's sitting the wrong way in her chair and chewing on a fingernail and her hair looks almost as poorly cut as mine. I think she might be one of the companions in the game but I can't remember her name. It's been a long time and, at some point, the Names of Video Game Characters file was discarded and replaced with How to Gut and Skin an Animal. I only recalled Josephine's earlier because the guard said her last name.

The tavern is loud, warm, and full of people… and it suddenly goes from cozy to overwhelming in the blink of an eye. My hands get clammy and the food churns in my stomach. I quickly grab my things and nearly run out of the room. I hope Flissa doesn't take it the wrong way. The cold, fresh air outside is a welcome reprieve and I fill my lungs to bursting before letting the air out in a _whoosh_.

Feeling calmer already and with my hunger satiated, I continue up to the Chantry. The imposing building looms over me as I stare at the front doors. I'd really rather be doing this _after_ bathing, but that's not possible. So, flicking a matted curl off of my forehead with a huff, I push the doors open. The inside is dim, lit only by a few candles, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Only a few people are inside and none of them look familiar. I walk up to one of them.

"Pardon me, do you know where I can find Josephine Montilyet?" The girl, an elf, freezes and gapes at me. I try not to stare at her ears while I wait for a response. Nothing.

"Um," my face scrunches up in mild embarrassment, "sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I don't really know what else to say. She seems to regain her composure anyway.

"Oh! Th-the last door on the left!" She squeaks her directions and I just kind of blink at her.

"Thanks…" I nod and continue on. I stand in front of the specified door and knock twice.

"Come in," is the muffled reply. I enter and there she is; Lady Josephine Montilyet in all her ruffly glory. I suddenly have the urge to laugh hysterically.

"Oh!" Her nose wrinkles a little at my appearance, but it's hardly noticeable. I have to give her credit for at least _trying_ to hide it.

_Yes, I'm caked in dirt and dried blood and giant insect juices. Can I have a job?_

**_Not likely._ **

I shake my head and step forward, "Hello, my name is Rhynn. I just arrived and was told you're the one to see about a job…?" She recovers quickly and stands, rounding the desk.

"Welcome to Haven! You heard correctly. May I ask what skills you have?" She's holding a fancy clipboard, quill poised and ready for my answer.

_And how do you see yourself being an asset to this company?_

"Well, I'm pretty good at healing… fixing people up and whatnot." It's mostly true; I'm good at patching _myself_ up. And I know about germ theory, so that's one up on the people here.

Her expression remains polite, "We have mages who are capable of doing just that."

"With all due respect, I haven't seen that many mages so far," I've seen very few individuals prancing about in robes, so I assume there aren't a whole lot of mages around. "Magic can't heal everything and a mage might not always be available. I'm sure you'll have them off doing other things sometimes." I'm really just bullshitting at this point, but I take it as a good sign when Josephine's smile warms slightly.

"True enough," she scribbles something down. "I can have you start assisting Adan. How does that sound?" She looks up at me, hip cocked and quill held elegantly aloft. I feel like a troll in comparison.

"Very good," I give her a small but genuine smile, "thank you." She nods in acknowledgment.

"You will need a place to stay, of course. There are many available lodgings in Haven, though you would need to share with – "

"Actually," I interrupt, staving off panic, "I noticed the cabin outside the walls is abandoned. I was wondering if I might claim it." She gazes at me contemplatively.

"Are you sure? It is much safer within the walls." I nod emphatically. "Very well, that will work. Report to Adan in his shop tomorrow morning." She writes something else down, "If that is all…?"

I take that as my cue, "Yes, thank you."

"Good day, Lady Rhynn!"

_Lady?! Pfftthahahaha!_

* * *

_  
_

The woods surrounding the cabin are soft and quiet; green-tinged moonlight dapples the snow. The door opens with a soft protest and I set my things next to it to fish out my flashlight. After a few turns of the crank, the room is lit by an artificial beam. A look at the fireplace shows slightly-charred logs with a healthy coating of dust. I pull out my flint and, after a couple of tries, coax a fire to life. I then take a few minutes to light all the candles I can find in the room. Finally able to see, I retrieve a medium-sized cauldron from the corner, dust it off a bit, and hang it over the fire. I stopped by a well on my way here and filled a bucket with water. I grab it from where I left it by the door and pour the contents into the cauldron.

_I feel like I should be adding eye of newt and the blood of a virgin. Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…_

While waiting for the water to heat, I begin pulling items out of my pack and laying them on the floor around me. My med kit, scraps of cloth, clean clothing, and small bundle of something. It's this something that I take over to the fire with me. Untying the bundle reveals what remains of a bar of soap; it's dried up and broken into little pieces but it still works. I remove my coat, a grey and threadbare thermal, and a long sleeved shirt, leaving me in just a tank top once again. I decide to wash my hair first; I have a feeling I'll need to go get more clean water for my body.

I test the water temperature then remove the cauldron from the fire and set it on the floor. Careful not to touch the undoubtedly hot metal, I dunk the top of my head into the water. The warm water feels heavenly and I make sure to get all of my hair wet before grabbing a small chunk of soap and lathering it up. I scrub for a solid three minutes, at least, and my hands come away dark with grime. It's worse than I thought; my black hair must have hid a lot of it. I repeat the process, trying to get as clean as possible. By the time I'm done, the water is cold and murky and disgusting. I dump it outside, place the cauldron back over the fire, shrug on my coat, and go to fetch a clean bucket of water.

The second bucket heats just as quickly. I undress completely and remove my bandages. The burns get washed first, carefully, before I take care of the rest. I drip dry by the fire and then re-dress my burns, dabbing on some fresh ointment as well. I sit down and examine myself. My skin is rough and weathered and riddled with scars. Fire, claws, teeth, guns, knives; you name it and it has left its mark on me. I put on a clean set of underwear, a shirt, and leggings. None of my clothes are from earth. Those ones turned to rags years ago.

My eyes drift to the violin case still sitting by the door. I bring it over to the fire and sit cross legged in front. I haven't checked on the instrument in a while and I hope it's okay. I remove the key on a leather cord from around my neck, unlock the case, flip the latches, and lift the lid. I unravel the cloth protecting my violin and hold it up to the light. It's the shittiest violin ever to claim violin-dom but I'm overjoyed at the lack of any new damage. As usual, most of the finish is worn off and a few of the edges are chipped. I take out a dirty, oiled cloth and start rubbing down the body of the instrument, careful not to touch the strings (I clean those with a different cloth). Setting the violin in my lap, I pluck the A string and slowly twist the peg to bring it into tune. Only two of the original black pegs are left. I had to use my mediocre carving skills to create new ones, along with a new bridge. The sound of the instrument was never quite the same after I had to replace the bridge.

With something roughly resembling a tuned violin in my lap, I rosin up my bow, apply the shoulder rest, and start the process of fine tuning. It never sounds quite perfect anymore, but it's good enough. I stand up and run through scales while I think of what to play. I adjust my grip on the bow. I'm missing parts of my ring finger and pinky on my right hand and sometimes it makes it hard to play. Feeling a bit nostalgic, perhaps because of the reminder of home this place gives me, I launch into the opening notes of _La Mer._

_Somewhere beyond the sea…_

* * *

_  
_

That night I dream of home. Friends and family smiling and laughing… the smell of lilacs as I walk barefoot under the trees… warm summer nights spent gazing at the stars. No blood, no fire, no screaming. I wake up crying anyway.


	5. Playing doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am posting this chapter at 4 am because I have no self-control. The first part of it is mostly filler but it does get pretty gruesome towards the end. It's just Rhynn working on a patient, but it's detailed, so if you're squeamish then please proceed with caution. The scene starts after the second break. That said, please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, not moi.

The air holds the crispness of morning when I emerge from the cabin. Watery light shows a fresh dusting of snow has settled over the still-quiet town. I cast a contemplative glance at the blacksmith’s, thinking about the armor I used to own. Perhaps, if I make enough money, I can have a new set made. The extra protection would be nice.

After entering the main part of town, I realize I forgot to ask Josephine where this Adan works. I accost yet another Haven resident to ask and he points the way. At the top of stairs leading to Adan’s shop, the morning sun glints off something and strikes me directly in the retina, temporarily blinding me.

_Ok, perhaps I’m being a bit dramatic. But shit, that guy’s bald! Does he wax his head?_

Then I notice the sharply pointed ears and rigid posture. _Oh! Solas! Hard to forget a head that hairless._

My mind helpfully conjures up an image of the elf’s bald head on the body of one of those hairless pink creatures and I choke on my own spit. Of course, my gross hacking draws his attention and he looks me over curiously, perhaps wondering such things as _Who is this strange woman?_ and _Why is she staring at me while choking on air?_

I give a stiff, awkward wave, still attempting to dislodge the offending saliva from my airway. Solas raises a tawny eyebrow and inclines his head fractionally. I turn and head toward the shop, not looking back.

**_Marvelous first impression. Really._ **

“Shut up, asshole,” I mutter under my breath. The door to the shop is open and I pop my head in.

“Adan?” The sole occupant of the room turns and eyes me quizzically.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Rhynn,” I step all the way into the room, fidgeting with the frayed hem of my thermal.

“Ah, yes, my new assistant. ‘Bout time. Hand me that blue vial over there,” he waves vaguely. Searching the table on the far side of the room, I find and hand him the vial.

“You certainly don’t waste any time,” I remark, lips curving upwards slightly. A grunt is all I get in response and my smile grows.

_Straight forward, no bullshit. I can appreciate that._

“So I take it there aren’t any patients to attend to at the moment,” I circle the small room, examining its contents. An intricately patterned book catches my attention and I begin flipping through it. The writing is unfamiliar and I sigh.

 _I suppose it was too much to hope that they’d write in English, as well._ I set the book back down.

“Correct. Patients will be your responsibility, anyway. I’m no healer. For now, you’ll help me in here,” he doesn’t even look up, busy grinding something into a paste.

“Alright, just tell me what to do,” I push up my sleeves and move closer.

“I will.” I have to cough to cover up a chuckle.

* * *

 

The next few weeks pass in blessed mediocrity. A few days into the job, my green spirit run-in comes up in a conversation with Adan and he gives me a healing potion which eliminates the lingering pain under the burns. It also eases pain in other parts of my body that I didn’t notice until it was gone. _Neat._

I have very few patients to attend to and most come to us for simple things like colds. Despite how amusing it would be to see the confusion on their faces as I explain viruses, I resist the temptation and send them off with prescriptions of bed rest and some of Adan’s potions. For a while, the most exciting thing I get to do is stitch up lacerations. Anything worse is taken care of by a mage and sometimes it makes me feel a bit useless.

In my free time I go hunting; the skins and pelts I sell to the blacksmith are an extra source of income. Sometimes I keep the meat, but most of the time I bring it to the tavern. The Inquisition already has hunters, of course, but Flissa seems to appreciate my efforts. Often she’ll request that I retrieve certain herbs for her and I’ll add them to the list of things I already gather for Adan.

Adan quickly realizes I can’t read here when he instructs me to lay out the ingredients listed in a book. He assumes I’m illiterate and I let him; it’s easier than the truth. Grudgingly, he begins teaching me how to read and write, but only the words necessary to potion-making and nothing more. I pester him about other words and he sometimes answers.

I observe the world around me, trying to remember the events of the game and building a timeline in my head. I recall that the Inquisition can recruit either the mages or the templars and it doesn’t seem they’ve done either of those yet. I catch glimpses of the companions and names bubble up to the surface of my viscous memories. Cassandra, fierce and proud, striding about with purpose. Solas, of course, always looking like he’s contemplating the existential and deeply profound. The Iron Bull is, strangely, a source of stress for me. Despite his jovial attitude, something tells me to be wary of him, though I can’t remember why. Only once do I catch him watching me intently, but it’s enough to have me second guessing my every move from then on. My first glimpse of Varric sets my little nerd heart aflutter and I have to restrain the urge to talk to him.

Listening becomes my best asset during this time. Gossip certainly travels fast around here. A silly song sung by the minstrel in the tavern gives me the name of the odd girl I noticed my first day here: Sera. A few days after my arrival, a regal woman in silver robes and a horned headdress comes gliding through town with an air of importance about her. Gossip eventually names her as Madame Vivienne. _So fancy._ A week after that has Warden Blackwall joining the Inquisition, as well.

The Herald is a kind woman, a noble of House Trevelyan possessing all the trappings that come with that title. Tall and slender, auburn hair pulled back into an elegant chignon, she’s the picture of poise. I often see her stopping to talk to the people of Haven, who seem to love her, and not just because she’s the famed Herald of Andraste. I don’t envy her the title; I was never one for the limelight.

* * *

 

It isn’t until over a month after my arrival that my abilities as a healer are put to the test. I’m enjoying a bit of leisure time, sitting on the rock wall outside of Adan’s shop and slowly reading through one of his books. Haven is quiet today; anyone who’s anyone is out on Inquisition business. The stillness is broken by shouting at the doors.

“Healer! We need a healer!” I bolt up from my spot and dart quickly into Adan’s shop.

“Adan, ready the potions and my equipment. Something’s wrong.” He just nods and I run towards the commotion.

I see three Inquisition soldiers carrying a fourth, one of the three holding his mangled leg. All are covered in blood. They spot me and cry out.

“Thank the Maker! You’re the healer, right?” The soldier closest to me asks, an edge of panic tinging his voice. He doesn’t let me answer before rambling on. “Please, you have to help! We were attacked by demons and one of them got Rorin’s leg! We tied a tourniquet but he’s still bleeding!”

“Stay calm and follow me,” I say as authoritatively as I can. They fall into line, carrying the unconscious man between them.

Adan has a mat laid out on the floor. A basin of warm water and a pile of rags sit nearby along with a line of potions and my leather roll of tools. I grab the latter and lay them out before me, then reach for a bottle of alcohol. The soldiers gingerly lay their comrade on the mat as I pour some of the alcohol into a cup. The one holding his leg appears pale and in shock.

“Just keep pressure on that wound,” I tell him soothingly. “You’re doing fine.” I set my cup of alcohol and a candle near the mat and plunge my hands in the bucket of water sitting in the corner, scrubbing them thoroughly with the soap Adan hands to me.

I kneel beside my patient and check his pulse. Slow and irregular. I’ll need to work fast if I want to save this man. I grab the tools I’ll need and place them in the cup of alcohol. I make eye contact with the soldier applying pressure.

“I’m going to need you to remove the cloth so I can examine him but I may need you to do something else. Just do as I say. Understood?” I keep my voice level and he nods, pulling back his hands.

I have only a few moments to make an assessment. Blood is already seeping from the wound. Most of the leg has been severed above the knee, hanging on by a handful of ligaments, a bit of muscle, and some skin. _Oh God._ Completely unsalvageable. I nod and reach for my tools when the poor man suddenly regains consciousness and begins screaming and thrashing.

“Hold him down!” I order the soldiers standing in the doorway. They rush over to pin down his arms, torso, and uninjured leg. “Adan, get him something for the pain!” Adan grabs one of his potions, uncorks it, and slowly pours the concoction down the man’s throat. His movements and sounds quiet some.

I pull a thin metal rod out of its pouch and hand it to Adan. “Hold the tip of that in the hottest part of the fire until I tell you to bring it to me. Don’t touch it to anything.” He moves towards the fireplace.

I grab my scalpel (or as close as I can get to a scalpel here) and pass it through the flame of the candle. It catches fire for a moment, then quickly extinguishes. I look at my patient’s bloodless, pain-stricken features.

“I’m sorry, Rorin,” I say softly, “even with the potion this is going to hurt like a bitch.” I don’t know if he can even hear me. When I pour alcohol straight from the bottle and onto his wound, he screams so loudly I’m sure they can hear him on the other side of town.

“Sweet Andraste…” one of the men mutters, horrified. I waste no time, beginning to cut away at the remaining flesh keeping the dead leg attached, leaving a bit to pull over the wound when I stitch it. I hear gagging.

“How long has the tourniquet been on?”

“O-only about ten minutes by the t-time we got here,” one of the soldiers mutters. So, not too long. I hope that means the tissue below the tourniquet is still alive. I check the man’s pulse; weaker than before. I work faster.

I remove the tourniquet and blood immediately begins flowing out of the wound, allowing me to identify the artery.

“Adan, the rod.” He places it in my outstretched hand. I reach in, pinch the artery, then hold the rod to it to cauterize. I repeat this process for a few other profuse bleeders, wiping away blood with a wet rag handed to me by Adan.

That done, I turn my attention to the bone. It’s jagged where the break occurred, and with a churning stomach, I realize what I need to do. I grab a bonesaw from amongst my tools, repeating the sterilization process.

“Hold his left leg tightly. Don’t allow him to thrash at all,” I instruct the one who had held the man’s leg before. He nods, looking queasy, and holds down the leg.

I align the saw carefully and begin cutting. The sight and sound is horrific and I have to shut down all thoughts save those dedicated to the job. Rorin screams and screams and then blessedly passes out. The soldier holding his leg abruptly stands and runs out of the room. I hear him retching outside.

“Damn it!” It’s a good thing the man passed out because I now have to hold the leg myself. I finish the task as quickly as possible and toss the saw aside. I pour more alcohol over the wound.

_Ok, you know this next part. It’s easy._

I remove my needle from the alcohol and flame it before threading it. The surgical thread provided to me by the Inquisition isn’t as good as the stuff in my personal med kit, but it will do. I begin pulling skin over the wound and stitching it together. Stitch, tie, cut. Stitch, tie, cut.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the wound is closed. I wipe away the blood and sterilize the stitches with an alcohol-doused rag. Another check of the patient’s pulse reveals it to be as thready as before, but there’s not much more I can do. I sit back on my heels and finally allow myself to breathe. The man’s comrades seem to relax a bit as well.

“Is he going to be okay?” The question is filled with trepidation and quiet hope.

“I don’t know. I did what I could. We’ll just have to wait and see.” They both nod and look down at their friend. I don’t want to get their hopes up. Despite my efforts, there is a high chance infection will set in.

“Thank you,” one of them whispers, the other nodding in agreement, and I simply return the nod. I wipe my bloody hands on a clean rag and walk out the door. The scene outside has me pausing on the threshold. It seems every resident left in Haven has gathered in front of Adan’s shop. They gape at me, standing there covered in blood. I ignore them and turn to the soldier huddled against the wall.

“You ok?” He looks up at me and then quickly averts his gaze.

“Yeah, I… I’m really sorry about running out, I just…” he covers his face with his hands.

“It’s alright. That’s… not exactly easy stuff to witness. You can go in and see him now if you want,” he looks up at me with wide eyes and then hurries back inside, but not before bestowing me with a heartfelt “thank you.” I fidget. All this gratitude towards me makes me uncomfortable.

I grab a few pieces of the wood stacked against the side of the cabin. I build a small fire in the clearing in front, adding more wood to make it grow. All the while, the people of Haven fling questions at me which I continue to ignore.

“What happened?”

“Is he alive?”

“Dear Maker, why was he screaming like that?!”

I finally address the crowd, “If you would rather not see what a severed leg looks like, I suggest you leave. Now.” Many of them reel back and quite a few quickly leave the premises. I go back inside and return with the leg, tossing it on the fire. I notice a hooded redhead in the back studying me shrewdly.

_Leliana. Ah, how it must irk her to dig for details on my past and find nothing._

Suddenly, the smell of burning flesh hits my nose and my eyes snap back to the fire, looking through it and seeing a different scene altogether.

**_You couldn’t save them. You can’t save him._ **

It’s the final straw and I quickly run behind the cabin, promptly vomiting all over a patch of Elfroot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor of any kind, never claimed to be. So please don't go trying to save lives based on what you've read here. Lol. That's what first aid classes are for. As for this chapter, I just went with what I thought seemed the most logical. I'm sure it's not very accurate but *makes rainbow with my hands* imaaaginaationnn...


	6. Antibiotics and god-like chest hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I gain a new follower, I feel like a super villain gathering my minions of darkness. Yasss, come to me, my children! *coughs* Anyway, here's chapter 6. If you watch closely and are very, very quiet, you may spot some wild companions. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Today's chapter is brought to you by the letter B. For Bioware, which owns Dragon Age. And my soul.

The room moves in and out of focus as my eyes slip closed. I jerk upright and slap myself on the cheek, trying to stay awake. A check of the wet rag on Rorin's forehead finds it worryingly warm. His fever isn't getting any better.

"Damn it, don't do this to me Rorin. I ruined some perfectly good elfroot because of you. The least you can do is try not to die." The infection set in the two days ago and there has been no improvement. I've had maybe six hours of sleep in those two days and I'm at my wits end.

The warm rag is removed and a cooler one replaces it. I use yet another to wipe the sweat off of his upper body. I sing softly as I work, and I'm not sure if it's more to comfort Rorin or to keep myself awake.

" _Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me, my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing_ ," my singing voice is soft and raspy and not all that great, but I don't think Rorin minds.

I rinse and ring out the cloth and continue trying to keep him cool. " _Somewhere beyond the sea, she's there watching for me. If I could fly like bird on high, then straight to her arms, I'd go sailing._ " I've tried removing the stitches, opening the wound back up and squeezing out the pus. It didn't work. Adan has tried giving him potions made to reduce infection. That didn't work either.

" _It's far beyond the stars. It's near beyond the moon. I know beyond a doubt my heart will lead me there soon,"_ Rorin twitches and moans softly in pain. I hold a cool rag to the back of his neck. " _We'll meet beyond the shore. We'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea and never again I'll go saili –_ OH!" An idea suddenly strikes me and I slap my forehead.

_Idiot! Why didn't I think of that before?!_

I hop up and point at Rorin, " _You_ are _not_ going to die on me. Not if I have anything to say about it." I place water over the fire to boil and tug on my boots and coat. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

I jog to my cabin, knowing time is of the essence. It's important that no one sees me doing this and I'm lucky it's the wee hours of the morning and still dark out.

 **_You're really going to risk exposure for_ ** **this?!** **_For one insignificant soldier? It's not going to work. He'll die anyway and you'll be found out._ **

" _Yes._ He's not insignificant and this will work. It _has_ to! He's going to live and you can shut the fuck up!"

**_You know I'm right. When has luck ever been on your side, hm?_ **

I ignore the voice and grab my med kit out of the nightstand, then hurry back to Adan's shop. Once there, I set it on his work bench and pull a smaller case out of it. Opening this case reveals a metal syringe nestled in its foam bed. I carefully remove it and rinse it a few times with alcohol before dropping it in the boiling water over the fire. I pull out another small case. This one is made for precious vials of medicine. I used to have multiple bottles of all sorts, but all that's left now is a half-empty vial of antibiotics.

I remove the syringe from the water and allow it to dry on a clean cloth. A glance out the window has me moving faster; the sun is starting to rise. I don't have much time. I kneel next to Rorin and tie off his upper arm, flicking the crease of his elbow to find a good vein. I then disinfect the inside of his elbow with more alcohol. Removing the cap from the vial and inserting the syringe, I draw out slightly more than I've used on myself in the past and make sure to remove the air bubbles. Carefully, I insert the needle into his vein and inject the antibiotics.

"Alright Rorin, this should give you a fighting chance," I mutter softly, untying his arm and standing up. I repeat the process of cleaning the syringe, glancing outside nervously. As soon as that's done, I quickly place the items back in my kit and power walk to my cabin.

The early risers are starting to emerge from their homes and my heart beats furiously. _Please don't notice me, please don't notice me._ Outside the walls, Iron Bull is climbing out of his tent. His gaze locks onto me and my heart stops.

_Fuck. Fuck! Breathe, keep walking, act natural._

I keep moving towards my cabin. Inside, I stash my med kit in a harder-to-find spot and head back out. On my return trip, I walk purposefully and don't make eye contact. Safely ensconced in the shop, I give Rorin another fever-reducing potion and continue trying to cool him down.

" _I know beyond a doubt my heart will lead me there soon. We'll meet, I know we'll meet, beyond the shore. We'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea and never again I'll go sailing."_ Despite my efforts to lay low and keep to myself, I know Leliana must have her spies watching me closely. I'm strange-looking, my behavior is odd, and I have no past as far as she's concerned. All red flags marking me as suspicious. It's only a matter of time until they haul me in for questioning, but I can't regret my actions today if it means my patient lives.

" _No more sailing… so long sailing… bye bye sailing…"_

* * *

 

Two days later, Rorin opens his eyes for the first time since passing out. I don't notice at first, busy working on a potion. When I turn around, his eyes are darting around in confusion; they land on me.

"Hey there. Welcome back to the land of the living," he just looks more confused and I crouch next to him. "I'm Rhynn. I've been taking care of you for the past few days. How are you feeling?" His brow scrunches and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Water?" I nod and help hold his head up as I bring a cup to his lips. "Ahhh!" The scream startles me and the water sloshes down the side of his neck. He's staring at his amputated leg in horror.

"Shit! Ok," I set the cup aside and grab his chin, turning his head towards me, "look at me, soldier." His eyes snap to mine, "That's good. Keep your eyes on mine and breathe. You're fine. You were attacked by a demon that severely damaged your lower left leg. You lost the leg but you're _alive._ Focus on that. You're alive and everything's going to be okay." I speak in a calm voice and his breathing gradually slows.

"It's… it's just gone?" He looks understandably devastated.

"Yes." I cough awkwardly, "I'm sorry…" He doesn't respond. "How's the pain?" I gave him a pain potion recently, but I ask anyway.

"It's fine," he replies softly. I nod and stand, going back to my work.

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be right here," I start humming softly and hear him sigh behind me.

* * *

 

Rorin is a difficult patient. I understand why, but it doesn't make my job any easier.

"Rorin, you need to eat something," I coax, bringing the broth closer. He ignores me, staring off into space. "C'mon, your body needs sustenance to heal. Please eat."

"Why?!" he suddenly roars, whipping his head around to glare at me. "What's the point?! I'm never going to be of use again! I can't fight! I can't even feed myself!" He smacks the bowl out of my hands and broth spills across the floor.

"Hey!" I bring my face close to his and he shrinks back, staring at me. I wish that I could tell him about all the incredible athletes on earth who only have one leg. "Do I have your attention?" He nods. "Good, now listen closely. Do you think with your leg?" He looks confused but shakes his head. "What about your soul? Do you keep it there?" His confusion only grows but, again, he shakes his head. "Then you're not useless. It's just a hunk of flesh and bone. Your entire worth is not encompassed in your lower left leg and you'll do just fine without it." I pull back a little, still keeping eye contact. "But bear with me in the meantime, yeah?" He still looks a bit dubious but nods, averting his eyes.

A cleared throat at the door has us both turning to look and my eyes widen. It's Solas.

"Pardon for the interruption," he says, inclining his head.

I stand up, brushing off my knees, "That's all right. What can I do for you?"

"I've heard talk of your abilities as a healer and I admit to finding myself curious," he smiles self-deprecatingly. "I also offer my own abilities to help expedite your patient's recovery."

 _So formal._ I smirk internally. Outwardly, I raise my eyebrow questioningly at Rorin. He nods and I look back to Solas.

"Alright, come on in."

"Thank you." He enters and kneels beside the mat, setting his staff on the floor and asking for Rorin's permission before examining his leg. I grab some mess rags and begin mopping up the broth spill, watching them out of the corner of my eye.

"This is remarkable work, especially for someone who is not a mage." I'm unsure whether to feel insulted or not and settle for making a face at the floor.

"Uh… thanks," I dump the rags in a bucket and kneel next to him.

"Ah, that came out wrong. My apologies. I only meant that it's rare to see such skill outside of magic," he offers me a smile, just a small upward twist of the lips, and I return it. "Where did you learn?"

 _Ugh._ My smile drops.

"Um… home." His smile grows.

"May I ask where that is?"

"Free Marches. Ostwick," it's what I tell anyone who asks. Kirkwall and Ostwick are the only city-states I remember the name of, for some reason, and I can't very well say Kirkwall.

Solas hums in acknowledgment and I can't tell if he believes me or not. Either way, he seems to sense my reluctance to talk about it. I catch him glancing at the missing fingers of my right hand but he quickly looks away. He focuses on Rorin's leg again and his hands begin to glow with power. I stare, entranced by the sight. Despite seeing mages perform magic before, I still find it fascinating.

Solas works for a few minutes, brow wrinkled in concentration. I notice that Rorin's usual pinched look has relaxed somewhat. The elf finishes and stands, grabbing his staff.

"You should feel less pain now," Solas addresses Rorin, who mumbles an embarrassed but sincere 'thank you.' I examine his stitches; the skin looks nearly-healed already and I smile.

"Thank you," I say, standing as well. "I appreciate you taking the time to do this."

"You are welcome," he inclines his head politely. _Hm, must be a thing…_

"I'm Rhynn, by the way." _Let's ignore that our previous encounter ever happened, please._

"And I am Solas. It was a pleasure meeting you." His accent is rather soothing.

"I know." _Wait, what?! What was_ that _, mouth?_ "I-I mean that I know your name is Solas!"

Solas' eyes crinkle in amusement but he thankfully doesn't comment on my odd reply. "Good day, Rhynn."

"Yeah, I'll see you around," I wave awkwardly. _Stop that. Put your arm down._ He exits the room, still smirking, damn him.

I turn to Rorin to find him also smirking at me. It's the first time I've ever seen him smile. "And what are you laughing at, exactly?" I tease and he actually does laugh a little. I grin, eyeing him contemplatively.

"If I help you sit up, will you eat some soup yourself?" He nods, still smiling.

* * *

 

A week passes and Rorin and I seem to have reached an accord. He's much more cooperative and even a bit more optimistic, as well. His stitches will be coming out soon and I'm headed to the blacksmith's with an idea. While Rorin slept, I measured the length of his missing leg and it's these measurements I now give to the blacksmith.

"Well, can't say I've ever gotten such an odd request before, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Harritt," I head back into town and toward The Singing Maiden. Adan was in an oddly charitable mood and gave me the evening off, agreeing to watch over Rorin. _Poor Rorin,_ I chuckle.

The tavern is warm and smells of deliciously seasoned meat and unwashed bodies. It's an odd combination. I pay Flissa and she brings me a plate of meat, potatoes, and bread. I also order an ale. _It's my night off and I'll enjoy it._

I'm halfway through when glorious chest hair fills my vision. Varric-fucking-Tethras himself sits down on the opposite side of the table, eyeing me speculatively.

"So, you're the healer I've been hearing so much about. Rumor is you brought a man back to life with only the word of the Maker and a stern glare," he grins and takes a swig of his drink. Adan was stunned at Rorin's recovery. I'm not surprised to hear such outlandish gossip. _Thanks, Adan… the one time you feel chatty with other people…_

"I also burned a severed human leg in front of dozens of spectators." Varric stares in shock before guffawing loudly, as if he didn't expect me to respond.

_It speaks!_

"Shit," he mutters, still chuckling. His gaze turns speculative once again. "I hear you're from the Free Marches. I'm a Free Marcher, myself."

 _Careful._ I recall that Varric has a shrewd intellect to accompany his witty tongue.

"It seems you hear many things," I take a drink of my own ale, "but yes, I am."

Varric leans forward, hands folded beneath his chin, "Our esteemed Herald is also from Ostwick. Perhaps she knows you. A healer of your skill would most likely stand out in such a place."

I snort, "Doubt it." I continue eating my food. Swallowing, I add, "My said skills are rather superfluous in the presence of mages and well…" I let him draw his own conclusions. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just sipping his drink and watching me.

"You know, as an accomplished liar, I credit myself with the ability to smell a lie and you, healer, reek of falsehoods." My eyes snap up to his, searching his expression. Despite his words, he appears to simply be curious and I relax somewhat.

"And _I_ can tell when an author is just fishing for a story," I raise a scarred eyebrow in challenge.

He grins and laughs, shrugging, "You've got me there!" _Crisis averted, for now._

We continue chatting as I finish my meal and he keeps the probing questions to himself. At some point, Sera plops herself down on top of the table (not even in a seat), and grabs Varric's drink. He just rolls his eyes and orders another round. Her first words to me are, "You're an odd one, yeah?" I have to laugh at the irony and fix her with an amused look.

"Yeah, I suppose I am." She has _no_ idea. I laugh some more.


	7. Fucking time magic...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter. Also, I'm not feeling all that great, so sorry if it's not up to par with previous chapters. Thank you to the people who have left kudos, bookmarked, and reviewed this! I now understand what other fanfic authors mean when they say that they live for reviews lol.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

"Checkmate," Rorin smirks cockily, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"What?!" I look at the board, trying to figure out where I went wrong. "Fuck!"

Rorin chuckles, "You're not very good at this game, are you?" I hear Adan snickering behind me, the back-stabbing bastard.

"No, I'm really not." It's true. I know next to nothing about chess. Rorin keeps laughing as he resets the board and I mock glare at him. I can't truly be mad. It's good to see him so jovial.

"Ready to lose aga –" He doesn't finish speaking and I glance up to see what's wrong. He's completely frozen, arm extended, not even blinking.

"Rorin!" I shout, trying to shake him out of it. Nothing. "What the hell?" I turn to Adan, wondering why he hasn't said something. He's frozen too. "What the fuck is happening?" I try to snap Adan out of it, as well, but the results are the same.

I run out of the cabin, hoping to find help. The moment I see another person frozen mid-pace with a bird suspended in mid-air above them, I finally realize something is horribly, horribly wrong.

Suddenly, a buzzing feeling begins at the base of my skull. _The_ buzzing feeling. And it's strong – as strong as it is right before I get pulled into another dimension.

 _Oh no!_ I think of all my stuff in my cabin across town. _No, no, no!_ I take off, racing for the doors. Everyone, _everything_ , is frozen, like someone hit the pause button. And they're… fading. Literally disappearing before my eyes as I run. I may be a time/dimension traveler, but I have _never_ seen anything like this and it terrifies me.

 _I don't want to go._ The thought is surprising and disappointing.

**_You know better than to get attached. This was going to happen sooner or later._ **

_I'm not_ attached.

**_Sure._ **

By the time I reach my cabin, the world is spinning and my whole head is buzzing. I begin haphazardly throwing items into my pack, hoping desperately that I'll finish in time. My legs give out from under me and my vision darkens. On the floor, awareness rapidly deserting me, I reach out to my violin propped up against the bed post and promptly pass out.

* * *

 

"Rhynn? Rhynn, can you hear me?"

 _Adan?_ I open my eyes and immediately regret it. The light is too bright, blinding, and my head is _pounding._

"Fuck," I feel nauseated, "what happened?" My tongue is heavy and my words are slurred.

"Well… I… don't quite know." _What's that supposed to mean?_ "One minute you were there, the next you… weren't. I still don't believe it." I've never heard Adan so flustered. I remember the events prior to passing out with trepidation. I thought I was leaving. _What happened?_

"Rorin says you literally disappeared before his eyes. Scared us. I went looking and found you passed out on the floor in here. Speaking of, let's get you into bed," Adan is blabbering and that in itself is concerning. He helps me sit up and then lets me hold on to him while I leverage myself to a standing position. I flop sideways onto my bed.

"Ugghhh…" I clutch my head and try not to puke.

"I'll go get you a pain potion." Adan leaves and I try to think through my migraine.

 _Ok, so time stopped. That seems the most logical explanation. But I didn't. Why? Because I'm not from here? Possible. Time didn't just stop, though, things started fading away. What the hell could cause that? No idea. And my head buzzed like I was about to leave. No build-up, no warning. But I didn't leave. I'm still here._ The last thought makes me… happy. In spite of attempts to remain distant, I've grown to like this place. That's dangerous.

Before I can brood over this, Adan returns with the promised pain relief. With pain no longer keeping me awake, I drift into a fitful sleep.

* * *

 

_Gorgeous, multi-colored eyes look up at me. "Again, Ree, again!"_

_"Alright, you little imp," I answer in her own, smooth language, "but only once more or we'll both be in trouble with your mother." She gives me a sharp-toothed grin. I lift the violin to my shoulder and begin playing a lively folk song. She claps and dances about the room, giggling, and I join in. I smile and laugh, bounce on my toes and kick my feet. She watches my little jig and tries to copy it. The song comes to a close and we're both breathing hard from exertion, still smiling widely._

_"Beautiful, you two," I turn to see Ameant standing in the doorway. L'rij runs over and hugs her mother's leg._

_"Ree plays the best songs, mama! Can she tell me a night story?" Ameant smiles patiently and looks to me._

_"If that's alright with her." I nod, setting my instrument aside._

_The scene shifts. L'rij is crying, tugging on my hand. Ameant's sick form lies in the bed behind her._

_"I have to go, L'rij. I'm so sorry!_

_"No!" she screams, grabbing my forearm._

_"Please, little one, I need you to let go of my arm. I'm sorry!" Tears are streaming down my face. The buzzing in my head is almost overwhelming._

_"Why?!" she cries. "Why are you going, Ree?!"_

_"I don't have a choice, love! I'd stay if I could, I swear!" Truer words have never passed my lips. "Please, L'rij, let go!" We're both sobbing and she clings tighter. I have no choice but to pry her little fingers off my arm._

_I close my eyes. "I'm sor – " The world swirls and changes._

_" – ry." I'm surrounded by strange people. I try to take a breath and begin gasping and choking instead. I fall to my knees, lungs screaming for air._

* * *

 

I wake up gasping and sit upright in bed, flinging the blanket off. I wipe the sweat off the back of my neck and stumble over to my pack. From a hidden pocket, I pull out an old leather journal with warped and yellowing pages. I hastily flip through it until L'rij's face is looking back up at me. The sketch is old and warped but my memory fills in where the ink has bled. Chest tight, I flip through the rest, re-memorizing each precious face. Eventually, I pull out my pen and begin adding new ones for the first time in five years. I record the events of yesterday and speculate once again on why my life is the way it is. The answers remain elusive.

* * *

 

Days pass and Rorin and Adan seem to be attempting to forget my strange disappearing act. If my life wasn't already one big ball of crazy, I would probably be doing the same. Currently, I am helping Rorin learn how to get around with crutches in front of the shop. Mobility has raised his spirits and he's joking around, trying to cheer _me_ up for once rather than vice versa. A sudden outcry has us pausing our activities and moving towards the top of the stairs.

"The Herald is back!" We watch as the Herald of Andraste and posse make their way to the Chantry, followed by a ton of mages and… _Dorian!_ My mind starts screaming that this is significant. Something tells me that Dorian's appearance (along with the mages) is linked to my weird experience. I head towards the Herald and her companions with the intent to eavesdrop.

"Rhynn, what..?" Rorin stays at the top step, looking confused. I ignore him and keep walking. I fall in with the crowd, moving closer to the Herald while attempting to remain unnoticed. Leliana has joined the group and the Herald seems to be filling her in. I can only hear snippets of conversation.

"Time travel? You're sure?" The spymaster's voice is marginally louder in her surprise. My eyebrows shoot upward.

"Yes. We saw what would happen if this Elder One is not stopped," the Herald sounds haunted. "It's… awful." _The Herald, Dorian, a bunch of mages, and time travel. Sounds like the start of a bad joke._ Fuzzy memories begin trickling to the forefront of my mind and I almost don't notice when Leliana's eyes zero in on me with suspicion evident. I offer her a polite smile and act as if I was just passing through the procession.

I lean against the outer wall of a cabin and let the memories wash over me. I recall lots of red lyrium... dying companions with flanged voices. _The Herald and Dorian… they went… forward in time? The Veil was shattered and… and Corypheus? Yes, Corypheus has taken over_. _So when they went forward, time here stopped. But not me. Do I exist outside of time? That's… yeah, that's strange. What about the fading? Reality breaking down? Maybe._

I push off from the wall and head back to the shop. Still so many questions, but it's more information than I had five minutes ago.

* * *

 

"Rorrriinnn!" I sing-song, popping my head into his home. Being on crutches has allowed him to move out of Adan's shop, much to the relief of both he and Adan.

"Rhynn…" I'm wearing one of my rare broad smiles and he's immediately suspicious, "what have you done?"

"You're too young to be so paranoid," I flap a hand in his direction, keeping the other behind my back as I enter the room. "I have a surprise for you." He scowls and I disregard it, taking my hand out from behind me and offering him the wrapped item. He accepts it cautiously, eyes narrowed, and unravels the cloth.

Understanding slowly blooms across his face, along with astonishment and some undecipherable emotion. His voice breaks when he speaks, "I… _Rhynn_ …" He looks up at me with watery eyes. "This is for me?"

"I don't see anyone else in this room in need of a prosthetic leg," I tease. He seems confused by my terminology but smiles anyway, seemingly speechless. "Here, let's get it on you." He nods and lets me help him fasten the straps around his thigh. The wood and metal contraption is nowhere near the quality of those back on earth, but Harritt did a good job. "It'll probably be a bit clumsy, but I figure it's better than nothing."

"Yeah," Rorin nods emphatically. "Can… can I stand?" I nod and grab his crutches. He frowns.

"It's only until you get used to the leg," I reassure. Rorin takes the crutches and pulls himself up, carefully shifting weight to the prosthetic, wincing a bit. "Yeah, we can put padding under there to help cushion your leg. See if you can walk." Relying heavily on the crutches, he slowly lifts his left leg and takes a step forward, following with the right. Suddenly smiling, Rorin makes his way toward the door as I silently cheer him on. I don't notice at first that I'm also smiling. I follow him out the door and clap him on the shoulder, laughing happily and cheering.

"Yeah! Shit, look at you!" I grin brightly at him and he returns the expression. Without warning, he drops the crutches and pulls me into a tight hug. I tense up in surprise, unused to such displays of affection. Slowly, still unsure, I wrap my own arms around him and pat his back awkwardly.

" _Thank_ you!" he whispers vehemently. I feel a tear roll down my neck.

"You're welcome, Rorin," I whisper back. I glance up and notice Solas watching us with a look of pleased surprise on his face. My half of the hug becomes more natural and I avert my gaze, smiling softly.

**_This won't last._ **

_Not now, you. I won't let you ruin this._ For once, in the wake of my unusual positivity, the voice concedes defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is THE chapter. That’s right, the BIG REVEAL! Woo!


	8. Rhynn, the alien super-spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here it is! I couldn't stop writing and one chapter turned into a mega-chapter, so I'm splitting it into two. Yes, I'm posting the other half tonight lol.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is alllll mine! Just kidding, no it's not.

I've become so accustomed to the Breach looming overhead that it's almost strange to see it gone. I stand, staring up at the evening sky with the rest of Haven's population. Their boisterous cheering and palpable relief make me smile softly.

"It's such a weight off the shoulders, isn't it? Having it gone," I look to see a very pregnant woman waddling up the stairs.

"It is indeed," I respond, though in truth I was never really worried. "How are you feeling, Sophia?"

"About ready to pop! Do you have any more of those herbs? My ankles are as big as my belly."

I chuckle, "Yeah, follow me." I turn and head back inside. I begin scooping dried herbs out of pots and combining them in a cloth pouch, handing the finished product to her. "A small amount in hot water, just as before."

"I remember," she smiles and thanks me and I'm soon alone again, watching the stars.

The Herald returns with her companions and the mages. It doesn't take long for the drinks to be passed around and the merriment to begin. I wander closer to the crowd and watch from the fringes. Maryden plays her lute and sings and people start dancing. My fingers itch to grab my violin and join in, but I rub them on my pants instead and let the music soothe me.

I glance out at the scenery beyond the walls, serene for the moment. The mental image of hundreds of torches marching toward Haven, which suddenly overlaps reality, is startling in its intensity. I feel the blood drain from my face.

_My God, how did I forget?! Haven's going to be attacked!_

I'm hurrying toward my cabin without a conscious thought. I carefully pack my things back into my bag and grab my violin, returning to Adan's shop. Setting my things on the floor, I also begin packing as many medical supplies as I can into a crate. That done, I look around the little room which has become so familiar to me over the past few months. My memories of this part of the timeline are clearing up and I recall that the town will soon be up in flames. Many people are going to die tonight, struck down by a blade or burned alive inside their homes.

_Burned alive…_

I think of Adan, and of Rorin who is still on crutches. Memories of the game and memories from my first planet merge together, fire and screaming and so much death. And just like that, staying silent is no longer a choice.

**_Of course it's a choice, you idiot! The important people will make it out. Leave it be!_ **

_I can't._

Leaving my things in the shop, I weave through the crowd, searching. Finally, I spot him.

"Commander Cullen!" I shout and people turn to stare at me.

He whips around, frowning at the urgency in my voice. "Yes, what is it?"

"May we talk?" I point to a quiet spot away from the crowds, aware of listening ears.

He looks perplexed but nods, following me. Now alone, he fixes me with an expectant look.

"Haven's going to be attacked."

**_You're just going to blurt it out like that? Really? You'll be lucky if he doesn't strike you down where you stand!_ **

Cullen's eyebrows inch up his forehead, "Pardon?"

"In an hour, maybe less, a large force led by the Elder One is going to be seen marching toward Haven. It isn't safe here. We need to get these people out!" I gesture toward the blissfully ignorant partiers.

"The Elder One…?" Cullen blinks a few times and then his eyes narrow. "And how exactly do you know this?" I see him reaching for his sword and my own hand darts to the knife at my waist.

"We don't have time for me to fully answer that question, but suffice it to say that I'm not from this world."

**_Yeah, that'll convince him._ **

_Shut up._

" _What?_ " The poor man looks so incredibly confused now. He shakes his head and straightens his back, "Come with me."

That makes me nervous, but I follow him into the Chantry. He takes me to the war room where Leliana and Josephine are conversing, heads bent. They notice us enter and cast me curious glances.

"Commander?" Josephine is the first to speak.

Cullen gets straight to the point. "This woman claims that a force led by the Elder One will attack Haven within the hour." He doesn't mention that I'm not from Thedas. That must have been a bit much for him. I hold their gazes steadily when they turn to stare at me.

"Where did she get this information from?" Josephine asks, looking worried.

Leliana simply glares at me. "I have been keeping an eye on this _woman_ since she arrived. I have not been able to find anything about her past and many of my spies inform me she acts... oddly. The Iron Bull is convinced she's hiding something and so am I."

_And there it is._

"A spy?" Josephine theorizes.

"Possibly," Leliana narrows her eyes further at me.

"Oh dear, and I assigned her work as a healer!" Josephine looks dismayed. "I… I'll go fetch the Herald." She leaves and Leliana approaches me.

"So am I correct? Do we have a snake in our midst?" Cullen is blocking the doorway and I realize I'm trapped. My skin itches at the thought.

"I am no spy," I keep my eyes locked on hers. "I am a traveler from another world." _A lot of other worlds._ "Where I'm from, your lives are a story in a book." _Close enough._

"You expect us to believe this?" Cullen scoffs.

"Indeed, it is rather far-fetched," Leliana practically hisses at me, circling. _Well that's rather intimidating._

"Truth is stranger than fiction." _Story of my life._ "If I was a spy, why would I warn you of an attack?"

"It could be a ploy," Leliana insists, "meant to lure us into a trap." I roll my eyes.

"We're wasting valuable time! I'm trying to save lives here!" I yell, temper rising.

"And we're just supposed to take your word for it?" Cullen argues, arms crossed and feet splayed, cutting an imposing figure. A cleared throat has him turning and stepping aside. The Herald enters with Josephine, followed by Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and Bull. _She must have been talking with them._

Leliana and Cullen fill them in as I watch. The skeptical looks on their faces are almost comical. I get the urge to start cackling madly. _This is my life._

"Maybe she's just crazy," Bull supposes. My lips quirk and my eyebrow lifts as I tilt my head in acknowledgement.

**_He's not wrong._ **

_For once we're in agreement._

They don't notice me and continue bickering amongst themselves, throwing theories around and generally wondering what to do with the crazy maybe-spy.

"That may be, but it's obvious she has information," the Herald replies.

"I agree," Bull inclines his head.

"She is dangerous and should be locked up until we are able to ascertain her loyalties," Cassandra says with finality.

Josephine, ever the diplomat, nods in agreement. "She will be questioned thoroughly and we may dig for information on her origins in the meantime."

"I didn't believe her when she said she's from the Free Marches but… what if she's right about the attack?" Varric interjects. _THANK you!_

"How would she know of such a thing if not from the Elder One himself?" the spymaster counters.

Solas' soft accent carries over the others, "It is not entirely outside the realm of possibilities that a being from another world could find herself here."

"You're not really buying into that story, are you?" Cullen's tone is scathing and the two of them glare at each other.

Their voices grow increasingly loud and I realize they'll keep arguing until Corypheus shows up if I don't do something. _Oh, you've got to be kidding me! We're running out of time! That's enough._

"HEY!" I boom and they all turn to me in surprise, evidently having forgotten I was still in the room. "Alright, here's how this is going to work! You're all going to pretend you believe me and we're going to get those people out there to safety!" I point violently towards the door for emphasis. "Now, I could take each of you aside and tell you all of your darkest secrets in an attempt to make you take me seriously," I see Solas blanch, "but we don't have time for that! You can question me to your little heart's content later," this I say to Leliana. "But a lot of innocent people are going to die if we don't move NOW!"

They continue to stare at me for a minute before turning to one another. I see each of them nod subtly before turning back to me.

"Very well," Cullen grits out between clenched teeth, "but how are we supposed to get that many people out without alerting the enemy?"

"Ask Chancellor Roderick," I reply, recalling that he knows of a secret passage or something of that nature.

"Roderick?" Cassandra scoffs.

"Yes," I insist. "Just ask him." She and Cullen look dubious but seem to accept this.

"Herald, you'll need to address the people of Haven. They will listen to you," Josephine tells the woman, who nods and begins walking out the door. Cassandra leaves as well, presumably to speak to the Chancellor, and I grab Cullen's attention. The rest trail out behind the Herald.

"I'll need some armor."

He raises an eyebrow, "What for?"

"I plan on fighting. We'll need to give the people as much of a head start as possible."

" _You_ plan on fighting?" I assume he's alluding to both my occupation as a healer and my status as a possible spy.

I point to myself, "Do you think I got these scars by running into too many tree branches? I'm good at fighting. I need armor." My eyes blaze with resolve.

"Fine." He glares but gestures for me to follow. "I'm going to regret this…" I hear him mumble as he rubs his temple. He finds Harritt on the fringes of the crowd and approaches him.

"Harritt, outfit this woman with armor as quickly as you can and then grab only what you need and return here." Harritt's brow creases but he nods and waves me over. We head out of town and, behind me, I can hear the Herald addressing the citizens of Haven.

"What kind of armor do you prefer?"

"Hm?" my attention is brought back to the blacksmith. "Oh, leather. I'll take whatever you've got, though. I know this is short notice."

"You've got that right," he mumbles and begins digging through the chests in his shop, throwing random armor pieces at me. I catch them and begin strapping them over my clothes. The pieces are a bit big but my many layers help keep them in place. Cuirass, spaulders, vambrances, and greaves all go on top of layered thermals, thick cargo pants, and hiking boots. _I must be quite the sight._

"Thank you, Harritt," I say, fastening the last buckle and turning to leave. "Remember, take only what you need and hurry back to the Chantry."

"I don't know what's happening here, healer, but… you be careful," he says softly. I nod in acknowledgement, surprised at his concern. I leave him there, shoving items into bags, and return to Adan's shop. He and Rorin are waiting for me when I arrive.

"Thank the Maker!" exclaims Rorin. "Where have you been?" They both seem to notice my attire at the same time.

"What in the Void is happening, Rhynn? Why are you wearing armor?" Adan grabs my arm, looking at my face in concern.

"I'll explain later. You two need to get to safety with the rest," I kneel next to my bag and pull out my pistol, still in its holster, and fasten it around my waist, moving my hunting knife so it's strapped around my thigh. I drape a harness over my back that's filled with strangely carved throwing knives made of an alien metal and reach for my violin case to unlock it. Adan and Rorin are staring at me silently, seemingly in a state of shock.

Rorin is the first to break the silence. "What in the name of Andraste is _that?"_ he points to the gun at my waist.

"A weapon."

"I've never seen a weapon like that before," he remarks nervously. I don't bother to explain anything more.

I lift the lid on the violin case and pull the lining back to reveal a medium-length, slender gun. It's a shotgun… of a sort, except that it shoots a type of energy rather than buckshot. I strap it to my belt on the left side and pull a revolver-type gun out as well, tucking it into the belt at my lower back. I then begin yanking ammunition out of compartments and stuffing them into my many pockets. _Thank God I wore the cargo pants today._ I don't have a ton, so I'll need to be careful and make every shot count. I decide to leave the bow strapped to my bag. I could get more arrows from the Inquisition, but I'm not good enough with the weapon to make it worth the while. I close up the case and my bag and turn to the two men still in the room.

"I… I'm going to need you to take my things," I say softly. We stare at one another for a short moment before they both nod, understanding without me having to say so that these items are precious. Adan grabs my bag and slings it over his back alongside his own. He then kneels to pick up the crate of medical supplies.

Rorin hobbles forward. "Strap it to my back," he says, nodding toward my instrument. One arm at a time, I fasten it to his back and tighten the straps so that it won't jostle.

"Thank you."

"Come back to us, Rhynn," Rorin murmurs and then I'm alone.


	9. A girl and her guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters back to back! Who doesn't love that? This one is super action-packed, so buckle your seatbelts, kiddies!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age… hmmm… yep, still not mine.

I turn to the shelves and grab the extra bottles of alcohol, distributing the liquid evenly among them, and then start tearing some dirty rags into strips. The end of a strip goes into the bottle and gets held in place at the mouth with a plug made from more cloth. As I work, I consider how I must look and snort out loud in amusement.

"God, I'm such a fucking cliché. Bring on the zombies!"

I place the small number of bottles in an empty crate and carry them to the Chantry.

"There you are!" I hear Cassandra shout angrily as I come up the steps. She falls silent, though, and they all turn to stare at me in astonishment. I'm sure I look nothing like their idea of a healer and I grin internally. I take in the group before me. Leliana and Josephine are absent, but the rest of the companions are now here and it seems they've been filled in on the situation.

"What are those?" Varric finally asks, gesturing to the crate of bottles in my arms.

"Molotov cocktails. Light the end of the fabric and throw them and they make a big boom," I grin outwardly now too.

Varric nods appreciatively and comes over to take one, "Nice." The Herald follows behind, also taking a bottle.

"What's your name?" I ask out of the blue.

"You don't already know?" Her face is unreadable.

"I'm not omniscient. Far from it, actually," I smile self-deprecatingly. This seems to appease her.

"My name is Aila. Why do you ask?" There's a crease between her perfect eyebrows.

"Everyone only calls you by your titles. It seems to me that would get a bit tiring. Does it, Aila?"

Her face softens somewhat at the sound of her name. "Yeah… sometimes it does." I offer her a small smile and she returns it and walks off.

_Aaaand one gold star sticker for Rhynn!_

I take one of the bottles for myself and leave the crate on the ground, silently telling the rest to help themselves. Sera creeps over and grabs one, even though she's looking at me like I'm the spawn of Satan. I turn away, squinting out at the darkness beyond the town. I hear Cullen giving a pep talk to a small battalion of soldiers to my right and almost don't notice when Solas comes to stand beside me.

"When this is over, we must speak privately," his normally serene voice comes out slightly harsh.

"I know," I reply without looking at him. I see him nod and leave with my peripheral vision and turn my attention back to the hills. Within minutes, tiny pinpricks of light can be seen winking in the distance and a horn nearby blares its warning.

"They're here, Commander!" one of the soldiers that must have been stationed on watch is running toward us. "And they carry no banner!"

I feel the weight of a few dozen eyes on my back, but I ignore it and begin loading my guns.

"What sort of weapons are those?" Dorian asks curiously and even though not all of them are watching, I have a feeling many ears are tuned in for my answer.

"They're called guns. Just a warning, they'll be loud when I fire them," I reply, deciding that I'll use the pistol first; it has the least amount of ammo. There are a few murmurs of acknowledgment at my comment.

We migrate to Haven's giant doors, which are now battened down. Cullen posts archers along the wall and joins us.

"How does it look, Commander?" Aila asks calmly.

Cullen sighs and scratches the back of his neck. "I won't lie to you… there are a lot of them. Hundreds." We all wince collectively. Those aren't good odds.

"Alright," Aila stands up straighter, raises her voice, "let's split into smaller groups and cover the trebuchets. Bull, I want you to take Sera, Dorian, and four of Cullen's men to the far left. Vivienne, you'll cover the other one with Blackwall and another six soldiers. Varric, Cassandra, and Solas, you're with me. And Rhynn," I look up at her, "I want you with me as well." I nod, moving towards her as the rest split up into their assigned groups. I'm not sure if she has suddenly found faith in my fighting abilities or if she just wants to keep an eye on me. Probably the latter. I can hear sounds of fighting outside the walls and my stomach does a flip.

"I already have soldiers manning the trebuchets. Your main prerogative should be to protect them," Cullen adds. "I will stay here with the rest of my men as a last line of defense." Right on cue, I hear one of the trebuchets release and watch as the fiery projectile spins off into the night. "Maker be with you all."

A banging at the doors has us all jumping in surprise.

"You need to open! I can't help if you don't let me in!" a boy's voice calls out.

"What the…" I hear someone behind me start to say but I'm lost in thought, trying to place that voice.

_Cole._

"That's Cole!" I cry out. "Let him in!" The Herald eyes me speculatively for a half-second before nodding at Cullen, who then opens the doors to reveal a strange young man in a large hat. He's covered in blood and a trail of bodies stretches out behind him.

"I'm here to help!" he insists, coming inside. "There are people here to kill you," he takes in the deserted town with cloudy eyes, "but you already know." His gaze snaps to me and he flinches, grabbing the side of his head. _What's that about?_

The sound of fighting gets louder. There's no time left. Aila sighs and addresses me, "He's trustworthy?"

"Very," I respond.

She nods and turns to Cole. "You'll go with them," she points to Vivienne's group.

Cole turns to Sera and asks, "Can I have one?" He's referring to the two Molotovs she has clutched in her fists. _How does she expect to shoot her bow?_ I let an amused look cross my face.

"Mmm no."

"Sera," Aila snaps.

"Ughhh fine!" She thrusts one at Cole, who graciously accepts it. "Like being a stupid kiddie again. You have to _share,_ Sera. Fuck that," she grumbles.

I duck my head close to Cole's and start to explain how the Molotov works, "You have to light – "

"I know," he interrupts. Not rudely, just stating a fact. My face scrunches in confusion. "I saw."

 _Ah._ I'm suddenly extremely uncomfortable. There's a lot of shit in my head that I don't want _anyone_ to see, let alone a kid. Even if he is a spirit one.

"Let's go," the Herald commands and we head out the doors and into the chaos. Each group goes to its assigned destination, leaping into the fray. "We'll be going where we're needed," Aila informs us.

There is already a group of templars running at us and I cock my pistol. Many of them still look human, but a few are deformed by the red lyrium piercing their skin. _Gross._ Solas is the one to make the first move, casting an ice glyph in the templars' path. Two of them get caught in it and turn into human sculptures. Varric shoots a bolt at each and they shatter into frozen chunks of flesh. With a simultaneous battle cry, Cassandra and Aila launch themselves at the rest, swords swinging. It's obvious to me, in this moment, that this is a group used to fighting together. I, on the other hand, have always fought alone, and having other people by my side is jarring.

**_You'll get them killed._ **

I shake my head. Bracing my weapon with both hands, I take aim at the nearest suit of armor and fire. The bullet rips through the lower right part of its helmet and it falls to the ground.

"Shit!" Varric's exclamation takes me by surprise and I realize they're all staring at the gun in my hands with shock and maybe even a bit of fear.

I see one coming up behind Cassandra and lift my weapon again, "Cassandra!" She rolls out of the way and a heavy axe blade cleaves the spot of ground she occupied not a second prior. I shoot the Red Templar in the chest and he's down. "I warned you it would be loud!" I reprimand.

A burning mass launches from amongst the enemy ranks and soars over Haven's wall, crashing noisily into something on the other side.

We finish off the rest of the group with Solas casting, Cassandra and Aila swinging, and Varric and I shooting. I switch to my revolver after the pistol is spent.

We fight our way to the nearest trebuchet and the battle changes to close-quarters combat.

I tuck the gun away and pull out my knife as a templar with a twisted visage comes at me. He swings his sword at my midsection and I hop backwards to avoid the blow. My quick eyes dart over him, looking for weak spots.

 _You may look like a monster but there's still a human under there somewhere._ It's both an acknowledgment of my ability to kill and a reminder to make it quick. I dart under the next swing, moving to his side and crawling onto his back. Before he can react, I plunge my blade deep into the back of his neck and twist, severing the spinal cord and popping the vertebrae apart. I hop off as he crumples to the ground.

I barely have time to catch my breath before another templar is attacking. This one is covered in more red lyrium than the last and I hope my technique works just as well this time. I try to dart behind it. The templar isn't making it easy for me, though, swinging unpredictably. My spaulder catches a blow and I feel metal biting into my skin and scraping bone. The force knocks me to the ground and, as the templar moves in for the killing blow, I scrabble in the dirt to get out of the way. Finally, I'm behind it and attempt to stab my knife into its neck, but the shards of lyrium deflect the blade. I recover quickly and plunge the knife between shards in the side of its neck, hopefully hitting the jugular. Blood sluggishly seeps out of the wound when I remove the knife and I curse.

_Ok, asshole._

I proceed to dart in and out, stabbing at any unprotected spots I can find. Eventually, the once-human falls and I step back, breathing hard. I take a look around; everyone is occupied with their own combatant and struggling to stay one step ahead. _We're barely holding them off._ Movement in my peripheral has me swinging around. Aila is busy fighting one Red Templar and doesn't notice another coming up from behind. I grab a throwing knife off my back and send it flying. It hits home in the man's temple. Aila whips around, glancing at the body on the ground.

"Thanks," she looks at the knife, "and good throw!" I grin at her, blood dripping down my arm.

I retrieve the knife, having to step on the man's head for the leverage needed to pull it out. I wipe it on my pants and slip it back into its slot.

"Motherfucker!" the cry has both of us turning. Sera is splayed on the ground, clutching her bleeding side. I reach for another throwing knife but she shoots the templar above her through the eye before my hand even closes around the hilt. "Dirty cocksucker!"

I run to her side and kneel down, moving her hand to check the wound. It's deep but not life-threatening for the moment. "Get to Cullen!" I shout as another projectile hits the town's wall, leaving a gaping hole which the templars immediately capitalize on. She looks like she's about to argue as I help her up, but thinks better of it and hobbles for the doors. I see Blackwall, supporting a soldier with a bleeding leg, headed in that direction as well. Many bodies litter the ground, both Red Templar and Inquisition alike.

"We're getting pummeled out here, Herald," I hear Varric say.

"I know," she responds, then a moment later shouts "Fall back!" The cry carries across the battlefield and we retreat into the town and further, into the Chantry. Once everyone is in, the doors are barred.

"Cullen, have you seen the signal yet?" Aila asks desperately.

"No…" he replies worriedly. "I don't understand, they should be clear by now." Multiple faces fall at the news.

 _Damn._ I had been hoping to spare the Herald from this next part, but fate is a cruel bitch.

They discuss what to do as I remove my right spaulder. The wound is deep. I imagine it would have been worse without the armor. I sit against a pillar and remove the Molotov from my belt, taking the cloth out and pouring some of the alcohol into the wound. My cry of pain garners a few concerned looks. "Sorry," I mutter, panting and sweating.

Solas comes over, hands already glowing.

"No, no," I wave him off. "Go help Sera. Hers is much worse. If you have time afterwards, you can help me."

"As you wish," he nods and leaves.

I put the cloth back in the bottle and reattach it to my belt. I pinch the wound closed and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. The Herald crouches in front of me.

"I'm going to have to stay behind and buy time, aren't I?" she asks softly and I nod.

"Yes. I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary."

She sighs at my answer. "We've decided the best course of action is to bury Haven with an avalanche."

"Yeah, it is. Just keep him talking until you see the signal. You'll be all right," I reassure.

" _Him?!_ " her eyes narrow and she lowers her voice to a whisper. "The Elder One?!" I nod again and she blinks, trying to process this. She stands and addresses her companions. "I'm going to stay behind and buy you all some time to get out." There are a few protests but she hushes them. "You know it has to be me. Please, get to safety," she begs them. Reluctantly, they agree and begin filing out through the back of the Chantry. Only Cullen, Solas, Varric, Cassandra, and I linger.

Solas kneels next to me once again. "I apologize," he begins healing my shoulder and I can almost feel the flesh knitting back together, "I don't believe there is time to heal it completely."

"That's fine," I mutter, watching Cullen saying goodbye to Aila. They're standing quite close and gazing into one another's eyes. I quirk an eyebrow and smirk. _Well, well!_

Aila finally seems to notice the rest of us. "What are you all still doing here?"

"You didn't really think we were going to let you have all the fun, did you?" Varric quips, checking Bianca over. Aila looks down and coughs to cover some emotion.

Solas stands and I reattach the damaged spaulder before following suit. I make sure my revolver is reloaded and count my bullets. Only seven left, besides the ones in the gun.

Cullen leaves out the back and the rest of us exit via the front. We fight our way to the only working trebuchet and I try to use my throwing knives instead of bullets, knowing what lies ahead. During a pause in the fighting, Aila examines the aiming mechanism.

"I'm going to need you all to cover me while I aim this. It's going to take a while," she begins turning the wheel, grunting under the strain, and we form a loose semi-circle around her. I use my gun now as we pick off the approaching Red Templars. There seems to be an endless supply of them and we're quickly wearing out.

Varric grabs his Molotov cocktail and holds it out to Solas, "Do me a favor, Chuckles." Solas conjures a flame, and as soon as the cloth catches, Varric lobs it into a large group of templars, laughing at the resulting explosion. "Holy shit!"

"How are you doing, Aila?" I ask, throwing a knife into someone's eye socket.

"Almost… there…" Right as she finishes speaking, the ground begins to tremble. Something _very_ big is headed in our direction. A giant lyrium creature bursts out of the trees to our right and the others make way as it charges toward us.

"Fucking hell," I mutter breathlessly at the sight. Solas backs up and begins casting glyphs in the thing's path as fast as possible, but it barely slows down. Varric sends a volley of arrows raining down on its head, which seems to distract it for a moment. Cassandra plants herself directly in front of the Herald, prepared to defend her with her life.

I try to remain out of sight, circling behind the lyrium beast and searching for vulnerable spots. I notice one on the back of its leg and sink my knife in, causing it to stagger and fall to one knee. I smile grimly and search for my next target. Without warning, the creature spins on that knee, swinging its club of a hand around and catching me squarely in the chest. I go flying, landing on my back in the snow. I lay there, dazed, my vision darkening around the edges. I gasp for breath, coughing up blood instead.

_Shit._

I roll onto my knees, still trying to catch my breath, blood trickling down my chin. After another long moment, I push myself to my feet, swaying. My ears are ringing and the world seems a bit surreal as I stagger forward. I pull the bottle from my belt and hold it to a burning pile of… something next to me.

"Move!" I growl at Cassandra, who is darting in to hack at the creature's legs. She sees my intent and leaps to safety as I throw the Molotov, hitting the creature's head and dousing it in liquid fire. It gives an eerie screech, disoriented. I grab my shotgun and start shooting. It stumbles and falls to its knees. I pop in a new cartridge and continue shooting until it lies motionless on the ground. My legs finally give out from under me and only Cassandra's arm, quickly slipped beneath mine, keeps me from falling.

"Done," the Herald says at the same time that Varric shouts "Dragon!" We start running, Cassandra helping me, but have to dive into a snowbank to keep from being bowled over. I glance back and Aila is pushing herself up off the ground, looking dazed.

"Come on, we have to go!" My voice is rough and I worry they didn't hear me over the beat of wings. "This is her fight. We need to leave!" Frowning, they pull themselves out of the snow and Cassandra helps me up. We hurry to the Chantry once again, Cassandra shoving a healing potion into my hands as we go. I chug it down and by the time we're leaving via the secret passage, my chest is feeling a bit better and I can walk on my own.

A few miles outside of Haven, we stop and Solas has me sit while he heals my chest a bit more.

"I cannot believe we just left her there…" Cassandra sounds guilty and devastated.

"She'll be ok," I whisper, eyes closed. Silence communicates their skepticism and worry better than words.

**_How do you know that your very presence hasn't doomed her?_ **

_I don't…_


	10. I never learn, it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a healthy amount of Solas/Rhynn interaction in this chapter. Finally! Solas, the formal, eloquent bastard, is actually kind of difficult to write. I spent quite a while just watching YouTube videos and studying his speech patterns and mannerisms.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

We catch up with the others just as they're beginning to set up camp. Everyone looks dejected and tired, without hope for the future. Cassandra finds the first mage capable of healing and practically dumps me in her lap. As the woman works on fixing my chest and shoulder further, I remove my weapons and set them aside. Cullen marches over and consults quietly with the Seeker. His already drawn face pales even more and he turns to me, waving off my mage friend so he can speak freely.

"Will the Herald be all right?" he whispers.

If I weren't so damned tired and still in pain, I would lie and tell him 'yes.' But my entire body aches and my thoughts are jumbled, so instead I say, "I… think so?"

Cullen's eyebrows snap together. "What do you mean you _think_ so?" he hisses.

"If I remember correctly, she makes it out alive… but I don't know how much my being here has altered the events," I reply softly.

The Commander begins pacing anxiously and I watch him from my spot on the ground. "You knew the whole time and you didn't say a word," he murmurs accusingly. His eyes snap to mine, burning with the force of his anger and fear. "We could have stopped all of this from even happening if you had only said something earlier!" he snarls, fists clenched.

After the events of the past day, my patience is non-existent and I feel my own temper boil, heating my face and blurring my vision. "You should be grateful I said anything at all! I could have just as easily remained silent and watched Haven _burn_!" I growl venomously. "I don't owe _any_ of you _anything!_ " My harsh words turn into a hacking cough and blood flecks my lips. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, suddenly winded and woozy.

"She took a red lyrium club straight to the chest, Curly. Cut her some slack," Varric interjects tiredly, all traces of his usual humor absent.

Cullen's face goes expressionless. "Where is the Herald?" he asks me.

"I'll show you," I reach for a healing potion sitting nearby. _Another bottle should be sufficient to keep me on my feet._

"No," his voice is toneless. "We'll find her ourselves."

I sigh softly in defeat. "She should be making her way up the mountain by now." I try to push away the fog in my brain. "Did the first group stop to rest earlier?" He nods. "Head in that direction." He nods again and leaves, taking Cassandra and Bull with him and trudging off into the deep snow. The mage healer hurries back over to me in Cullen's absence and resumes her work, urging me to lay down.

I must fall asleep at some point because the next thing I'm aware of is shouting voices and a hand in mine. I open my eyes slowly, blinking to clear them. I realize a person is attached to the hand: Rorin, sitting to my left with a frown marring his features.

"Hey," I rasp, mouth dry. His head whips around and he quickly withdraws his hand.

"Rhynn!" his frown disappears, to be replaced with a look of excitement and relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a bus," I mumble, rubbing my temples.

"What's a… bus?"

"Don't worry about it." A sudden thought strikes me and I begin to panic. "Where's my violin?!"

"Your what?" Rorin's frown returns.

"My violin! The metal case!"

Realization blooms on his face. "Oh! Right here," he pulls it out from behind his back, handing it to me.

I clutch the case to my chest and just take a moment to appreciate the solidness of the metal. Eventually, I sit up and look around. I notice Aila talking to a woman in scarlet robes across the camp and feel something loosen in my chest.

_She made it._

**_Congratulations, you managed not to completely screw everything up._ **

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" I mutter.

"What?" Rorin looks hurt and confused.

"Not you!" I attempt to reassure. Now he just looks _worried_ and confused.

"Rhynn, did you injure your head?"

Before I can answer, a sound from across camp draws my attention.

_"Shadows fall and hope has fled…"_

The woman in the red robes is singing and I realize that I recognize the song. Others join, raising their voices to the night sky, and I have to close my eyes to take it all in. I let my body sway and eventually can't resist adding my own voice in soft harmony.

"Bare your blade and raise it high…"

I no longer believe in God, but I do believe that the closest feeling to heaven I'll ever get is while listening to a hundred voices singing together, united in hope. It raises goosebumps on my arms and sends a delightful shiver down my spine. As the song comes to a close, I open my eyes, sensing someone's gaze. They lock onto Solas, who is watching me intently from just outside the circle of tents, a curious stranger looking in. His gaze shifts to Aila and he approaches her, then the two of them leave camp together.

My borrowed happiness fades away with the last note, reality crashing in, and I climb unsteadily to my feet. "Pardon me," I mumble to Rorin, who is still sitting on the ground and _still_ looking concerned.

"Rhynn – "

"I'm fine, Rorin," I snap and immediately regret it. "Please, I just – " _need to get away from here._

He inclines his head after a long moment, face pinched. I stagger off, rubbing my still-sore chest. I walk quite a ways away from camp and perch myself on a rock, hug my knees and look up at the stars.

_What have I done?_

**_Risked yourself unnecessarily. You know they'll lock you up as soon as they can, especially after your little outburst at the ex-templar._ **

_Fuck._ I drop my forehead to my knees. _It wasn't my place to warn them. The Inquisition would've been just fine without my input. More people would have died, but that's how it was supposed to be._

**_Did you think you could control fate? Look what happened! The Herald had to face Corypheus anyway! You had no way of knowing how your meddling would affect that! Her death would have been on your already bloody hands._ **

_You think I don't know that?! I gave up trying to control fate long ago! What the hell possessed me to try again?_

**_You know the answer to that: sentiment. You've let yourself grow fond of them._ **

_Alright, yes! Yes I care! And it terrifies me!_

**_As well it should! You know where that road leads, Rhynn._ **

_Yes… I do. I think it would be better for everyone if I leave now._

**_Yes, that would be best._ **

I go to stand up but soft footfalls stop me. Light from the full moon reveals bare feet in my peripheral vision and I sigh. _Do elves just not have any feeling in their feet?_

"Solas," I greet.

"Healer," he replies steadily. A beat of silence follows.

"You're wondering how much I know," I state and look up to see him regarding me warily, hands clasped behind his back. I take his silence as confirmation. "Let me make this quick, then. Yes, I know you're the Dread Wolf. Yes, I know you gave your orb to Corypheus. No, I don't plan on telling anyone what I know."

He processes this, expression unreadable. Finally, he speaks. "Do you have plans to hinder me in my task?" His voice is deadly soft.

"No." I feel the skepticism rolling off of him in waves and can practically hear his thoughts. There's no apparent reason for this strange human to keep his secrets, so how can he trust that I will? I'm a liability, a possible obstacle in his quest to restore the elves. Thousands of his people versus only one non-magical human. My back is to him, vulnerable, and I'm sure he must consider it, even if only for a second.

"Try it," I dare, a feral grin spreading across my face. Slightly unhinged, I stand and whip around, bringing my face close to his in an attempt to intimidate. "But you're still weak from _uthenera,_ Fen'Harel," he blinks at my use of elven and his name. "Are you sure you'd win?"

Solas holds my gaze, eyes flashing. "I may not possess the strength of my younger self, but neither am I _weak_ ," he hisses. "You would do well to refrain from threatening me in the future." We are nose to nose now, glaring fiercely at one another.

My head clears just enough to see the fear swimming below the surface of those blue orbs and that is what finally jolts me out of my state. Fear for his people, fear that his plans will fail before they're even set in motion. _Because of me._ My eyes fall to the ground and my posture wilts. I turn back around and sink to the ground.

"I'm sorry… I don't know what – I didn't…" I can't finish. I hear a deep sigh and Solas lowers himself to the ground beside me, sitting cross-legged with his staff draped across his thighs. We remain silent for a long while before Solas speaks.

"Last time we spoke, you mentioned that you learned the art of healing in your homeland. Is this true?"

I smile wryly. _I should have known his innate curiosity would win out over anger._ "I was studying to become a doctor before… well, before all of this," I admit, waving my hand vaguely.

"A doctor?"

"That's what we call healers where I'm from."

"Ah, I see." Another moment of silence. "If I may inquire, how was it that you arrived in Thedas?"

I bark out a sarcastic laugh. " _That's_ the million dollar question!"

"Pardon?" Solas tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

 _Using colloquialisms around these people is fun._ "I don't know how I ended up here," I clarify.

He leans toward me slightly, "You did not intend to travel to this world?"

I drop my hazel eyes to the ground and draw swirling patterns in a patch of snow. I take a deep, steadying breath. "I never intend to travel anywhere. For ten or so years, I've been transported against my will from one world to another."

"And did you possess prior knowledge of those worlds, as well?" he questions, not hiding his curiosity in the least.

"No, this was the first time that's happened," I admit, still refusing to look at him.

"Fascinating," he murmurs, almost to himself.

I snort and lean back on my hands, closing my eyes. "Yes, I suppose it must seem so…"

I feel him watching me and I open one eye to peer in his direction. He's studying my face with a calculating gaze and I worry suddenly that he sees more than I want him to. I open the other eye and cock my head. "What?"

"You have lived a difficult life," he begins, but a panicked shout has us both jumping to our feet.

"Healer!" A frantic-looking younger man is running towards us. "Please, come quickly! Sophia has gone into labor!"

"Breathe, Jonath," I smirk. "Go back to your wife. I'll be there shortly." He looks about to protest, but thinks better of it and returns to camp.

I look back at Solas, who is wearing an amused expression. "Duty calls," I remark wryly.

He inclines his head in a miniscule bow, "So it does." He pauses, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps we may speak again, soon." The words are part question, part statement.

"Perhaps," I offer a small smile and a nod before walking off. _More questions, then… but at least he's polite about it, I suppose. Now to play midwife to a new mother… joy. It's a good thing I got a couple hours of sleep already._

* * *

 

The baby is a few weeks early and I have to reassure Sophia that the child will be fine, that the early delivery is most likely due to stress and not something more serious. Sophia is in labor for eight hours before I finally see the top of the infant's head. A short while later, I place the newborn in her mother's arms and both she and the father gaze at their child in wonder. After helping clean Sophia up, I leave them with instructions and stumble out of the tent. Dawn is just beginning to break. I notice Adan, sound asleep on a mat near mine, and prod him with my foot.

"Huh? Wha…?" he slurs groggily, one eye opening a centimeter.

"I need you to go give the new parents some potions."

He grumbles and groans but acquiesces. I collapse onto my mat, still covered in blood, and check to make sure my weapons and violin remain untouched. I lay down and immediately fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Rhynn's inner dialogue seems less sarcastic, it's because she's trying to come to terms with what has happened.


	11. Lady Rhynn reads your palm now, yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a transition chapter again. There are lots of time jumps and these are pretty much just snapshots from the journey to Skyhold.
> 
> Disclaimer: Age of the Dragons is a product of Bioware.

"Rhynn, you need to wake up," something jostles my shoulder. I grumble and ignore it, trying to fall back asleep.

"Rhynn, seriously, you've already missed breakfast and we're starting to pack up camp," the jostling gets more intense. It's really not appreciated. I open my eyes to glare at the person doing it.

 _Rorin. Damn. I can't glare at that face._ I slowly sit up, groaning at how sore I am. Rorin is watching with his big green eyes and holds a plate full of food out to me. It smells delicious and my stomach rumbles. I take the plate and shove a potato wedge in my mouth. _Oh, sweet sustenance! You are forgiven for waking me, child._ I devour the rest while Rorin yammers on.

"Everyone was really worried about where to go, but apparently one of the Herald's companions knows of some place further north." _Oh, that's right! Skyhold._ "It's a long ways away, though, and I'm kind of worried about traveling that far… with my leg and all."

"You'll be fine," I try to say through a mouth full of food. "You could probably ride one of… _those_ things if you get tired." I wave my hand at the weird, furry, horned beasts of burden.

"Yeah, I guess so…" he trails off and averts his eyes. "Hey Rhynn… can I ask you something?"

"'Course."

"A lot of people have been saying that you must be from really far away. You dress and talk strangely and then there were those weird weapons you had yesterday and whatever a… a volin is," his forehead is wrinkled in confusion and he's still not looking at me.

"It's 'violin.' And that wasn't a question," my eyes crinkle in amusement.

Rorin sighs and finally looks up, "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere _very_ far away," I respond cryptically.

"But… fine," he scowls, slowly stands, and limps off. I frown at my knees. My reasons for not telling him are entirely selfish. As fond as I am of Rorin, I have no prior knowledge of him and I'm really quite awful at the whole trust thing. There's also a part of me that doesn't want him to know about all of the things I've done, wants him to keep smiling when he sees me. I may have just ruined that anyways, though.

Just as I finish strapping my weapons back in place, Leliana strides toward me. "Come with me."

I roll my eyes, but grab my things and follow. She leads us inside a larger tent where Cullen, Josephine, and Cassandra are waiting.

"We have been discussing the situation and, though you fought valiantly at Haven, we still do not know much about you," Josephine begins. "We do not have time to decide anything now, but, once we reach this… Skyhold, we will need to ask you a few questions."

"For now," Leliana picks up where the ambassador left off, "you are to remain within sight of one of us at all times."

I give a cold smirk, "So that's how it's going to be. Interesting."

"Do you agree to these terms?" Cassandra asks sternly.

"I do. May I leave this tent now?" She nods.

"Thank you _ever_ so much," I give an exaggerated, mocking bow. "Good day." I exit quickly. Leliana follows behind, presumably to keep an eye on me.

 _How dare they?! I nearly died while buying them time to escape and they still think I'm the enemy!_ I silently begin helping pack up, fuming.

* * *

 

We've been traveling for nearly four hours when Varric begins walking beside me.

"Apparently, a giant hole in the sky wasn't enough. Now we also have a person from another world who knows the future. What exactly have I gotten myself into?" He rubs his temples with gloved hands.

I laugh a bit. "You don't seem particularly worried about me knowing your deepest, darkest secrets," I tease.

"I'm kind of an open book," he shrugs with a grin. "There's not much to hide. But now I'm curious. What _do_ you know?"

"I don't remember a lot of the details. It's been a long time," I admit.

"When did you get here?" Varric looks a bit confused now.

"Only a few months ago," I reply and then give him the same explanation I offered Solas last night.

"That sounds rough," he remarks after I finish.

I snort. "Understatement of the year."

Varric has an amused look on his rugged face. "You still haven't answered my original question."

"Oh," I sift through my memories of the game. "Like I said, there's a lot I've forgotten, but I know the basics. You're an author, a business man, and good friends with Hawke. You and Hawke were the first ones to discover this red lyrium stuff. I'm also pretty sure you named your crossbow after a woman you're in a _really_ complicated relationship with."

He laughs loudly. "Yeah… that about sums it up."

Varric isn't the only one to make conversation with me during the long journey. Cassandra also talks to me, asking what I know of her. I tell her how I recall that she has a lot of names and that something bad happened to her brother, Anthony, but I can't remember what. It seems to satisfy her, though, as much as anything could ever satisfy the Seeker. Blackwall and Sera avoid me like the plague. I think they might be scared of me, but perhaps for different reasons. When Vivienne deigns to look in my direction, her face says quite clearly that I am not worthy of her regard. The Iron Bull, like Varric, doesn't seem bothered with my knowledge. Of course, this is the man that admitted to being Ben-Hassrath just after meeting the Herald, so… really no surprise there.

One evening, about three days into the trip, I'm sitting by the fire and discretely cleaning my guns when Dorian approaches. He sits down carefully on a log nearby and crosses one leg over the other. _So sophisticated, even in the middle of nowhere,_ I snark mentally.

"So, may I assume you know every sordid detail of my past?" he asks, eyeing me mischievously with a hand under his chin.

My lips twitch. "You may. Though yours really isn't that scandalous, compared to some here."

"Really?" he asks with surprise and interest. "Who?"

"I can't tell you that!" I laugh.

"You can't dangle juicy gossip like that in front of a man like me and not expect questions!" he complains, grinning. "It's cruel!"

"I never claimed to be nice," I quip.

"I'll say!" Neither of us says anything for a minute before he breaks the silence. "You know, these are really quite interesting…" he leans over, reaching for one of my guns. I grab his wrist, keeping him from touching them. I don't say anything, just hold his hand at bay until he retracts it.

"And dangerous," I insist, going back to cleaning. We don't talk much after that.

* * *

 

The trip to Skyhold takes about a week of nothing but walking. Normally, I'd be used to such activity, but apparently I've gotten soft since I arrived. I also have a habit of getting lost in thought and talking to myself. I didn't even realize I was doing it until Varric pointed it out. That was more than a little embarrassing, to say the least. Solas and I don't speak again for the rest of the journey. Perhaps it's for the best, considering how tense our last encounter was.

* * *

 

I'm in the middle of the crowd when our destination comes into sight. The Herald and Solas are the first to spot it and an excited murmuring passes through the group. I move with the people around me, heading to where Solas still stands, watching those who pass by.

"It has an elven name, too, doesn't it?" I ask him.

He turns to me, looking pleasantly surprised. "It does. Tarasyl'an Te'las."

"Tarasyl'an Te'las," I repeat, looking out at the impressive fortress. "The place where the sky is kept," I suddenly recall.

Solas' eyebrows climb a bit higher. "Indeed. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by your knowledge, all things considered. It is rare, however, to find a human who is interested in the elven language, let alone one who understands it."

"I didn't remember until you said the name," I correct.

"Nonetheless." The two of us begin walking again, following the flow of people. "I admit to some curiosity. Are there other phrases you understand?"

"A few," I answer. "I used to know more but I've forgotten most of them." Maybe not as many as I'd like him to believe, but I can't very well tell him I know what _vhenan_ and _ar lath ma_ mean. _That_ would raise some very unwanted questions. "I know your name, _solas_ , means pride," I say, hoping to distract him. "How very poetic," I tease.

He smirks a little. "I thought so, as well. Anything else?"

" _Ir abelas_ means 'I'm sorry,'" he nods, head tilted expectantly. "Ah… _ma nuvenin_ means… 'As you wish…?'" I shrug at my bad elven, looking at the ground.

"Yes. You did well," he offers me a small smile.

"That was two phrases, Solas," I chuckle. "Hardly anything to get excited about." I rub my forearm, feeling a bit self-consciously.

"Like I said," he pauses to climb over a boulder in our way, "there are not many humans interested in elven. That is enough to get excited about on its own."

I climb over the same rock. "I wish I could remember more."

He doesn't respond for a moment. "I could teach you… if you're interested?" He seems somewhat nervous, which is odd.

"Of course I'm interested! Languages have always fascinated me," I respond excitedly. "You're really willing to teach me?" I ask disbelievingly.

"I enjoy teaching others, especially when it involves knowledge that has been partially lost and should be remembered," he says with conviction.

I snort, grinning. "I know." Solas looks at me curiously but says nothing more.

_He's… surprisingly easy to talk to._

**_Careful._ **

_Hush._

* * *

 

It is obvious that Skyhold has sat abandoned for a long time. The stonework is either completely collapsed or on its way to being so and all of the wood show signs of rotting. For the first week or so, everyone has to continue living out of tents. Adan and I pick out an area for the clinic and set up our things. A few people haven't fared the trip well and we have them sleeping on cots. One of them, a young woman, has a high fever and keeps talking in her sleep. I am on my way over with a bowl of cool water when I suddenly notice a person sitting next to her, whispering something that calms her murmuring.

_Cole! I completely forgot about Cole! How did I just forget about him?!_

"Cole?" I ask, voice soft with surprise. He stands and looks at me, analyzing.

"You're broken, battered, bruised. Two parts to the whole that don't quite fit together anymore." He pauses. "Don't worry, you're not 'getting crazier.' I made you forget," he states.

"Oh…" I frown, ignoring the first part, "I'd forgotten you could do that." I don't think I like having my mind manipulated. "Please don't do that again, Cole."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. It won't happen again," he promises.

"It's alright," I continue forward and sit next to the girl, wringing out a rag from the bowl and holding it to her forehead. "Were you comforting her?" I nod towards the sleeping figure.

"Yes," he sits cross-legged beside the cot. "She misses her mother. I reminded her of the good memories."

"Thank you," I say sincerely and Cole's mouth curves upwards almost imperceptibly.

"You want me to keep helping." He sounds surprised.

"Yes, of course. You are a good person with a kind heart. It's amazing, really, what you can do."

He frowns at his lap. "Most people are afraid of me… but not you." He smiles again. "I shouldn't have made you forget. You understand. You heal their hurts, too."

"I try," I place the cloth back in the water and repeat the process. "Maybe the two of us can work together," I joke. "I'll heal the physical stuff and you take care of the mental."

Cole looks upset. "I can't stay long. You hurt to be around."

I look up at him, concerned. _Is he referring to the people I've killed…? Oh God…_

"No, not that," he answers my mental question. "You buzz inside my head, unfocused, like you're not really there."

"Ah… the whole dimension travel thing?" I guess and he nods.

"You're disappointed. You like talking to me." Again, he sounds slightly surprised.

"You're like the bit of calm in a storm. Is it really that surprising?"

He just smiles and moves to help someone else.

* * *

 

I had hoped that the advisors simply forgot about questioning me in the chaos of moving into Skyhold, but, seeing as I'm stuck in a room with them, that is obviously not the case.

"Unfortunately," Josephine interrupts Cullen, "she has become important to the people over the past few months. She has cured their ailments, healed their wounds, and delivered their children. They would not take kindly to her imprisonment, especially when we can offer no clear explanation for it."

"You're suggesting we simply let her roam free?" Cullen queries. I roll my eyes to the ceiling, searching for my patience. They've been arguing for an hour already and I just want to get dinner and go to bed.

Leliana is looking thoughtful. "She does possess valuable knowledge. It would be prudent to find out what she knows and I doubt she'd be willing to share if we lock her up."

"No, she wouldn't!" I pipe up from where I'm leaning against the wall and they all turn to look at me in mild surprise.

"Holy shit, yeah!" I mock. "I'm still here!"

"Apologies, Lady Rhynn," Josephine gives a half-bow.

_Oh, it's 'Lady' again, is it? Quit trying to butter me up, Josephine. It's not going to work, even if you are as cute as a button…_

"Please, tell us what you know," Leliana requests.

"I assume someone has informed you of my circumstances by now?" They nod. "I don't remember much. Usually, something here has to act as a trigger before I can recall anything. I _can_ tell you that we're safe at Skyhold. Nothing like what happened at Haven will happen here." They look relieved at my words.

"So you can't tell us how to win this war?" Cullen asks.

"I'm afraid not, but if you consult with me before any major decisions, it may trigger a memory that could help," I suggest.

The three of them look at one another. "Excuse us a moment, Lady Rhynn," Josephine says politely before they begin talking quietly amongst themselves. A few moments later, they turn back to me.

"We will send for you when we need advice," Josephine informs me and I nod. "I apologize for all of this, but you must understand how, well… _insane_ your story sounds."

I chuckle. "Yeah, trust me, I know."

Josephine smiles. "Please feel free to continue your work as a healer. You do an excellent job."

"Thank you," I actually smile in return at her words.

_Thank God that's finally settled._

After being dismissed, I head for the food, deciding to eat with Rorin. _At least he's not mad at me anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, I don't see Rhynn being an obedient pupil and saying, "Yes, hahren." Solas might come to regret his decision lol.
> 
> Edit: Quick question. Are any of you interested in how I visualize Rhynn? I'm asking because some people like to have a picture and others want to do their own visualizing based on the descriptions.


	12. Rhynn polishes her instrument (not like that!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : Another chapter! More hanging out at Skyhold, but Cole officially joins the Inquisition (there’s a bit of in-game dialogue there) and Rhynn has her lesson with Solas. So, a few people seemed interested in seeing my idea of Rhynn, so here’s a link to a sketch I did:
> 
> sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com
> 
> For those of you who would rather form your own mental image, there’s a description of Rhynn in this chapter. I was already planning on having her look in a mirror, so it worked out well.
> 
> Disclaimer: Wanting to fly away to Thedas does not, unfortunately, mean I own Dragon Age.

Finally, Skyhold is safe for habitation and we begin moving in. Adan and I set up shop in one of the towers, but decide to leave the tents out in the courtyard for any patients. I am assigned a small bedroom in a different tower where I have to climb a ladder to get to my bed, but I don't mind. It's cozy and safe and relatively warm.

At the moment, I'm staring at myself in a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. I suppose I haven't been around many reflective surfaces lately because my appearance takes me by surprise. My hair has grown; the longest chunks fall to the edge of my jaw. I must have gained weight, as well, because my gaunt cheeks have filled out and my eyes no longer look so sunken. Regular sleep has mostly succeeded in getting rid of the dark circles around my eyes, as well, though some evidence still remains. _Or maybe it's just genetic._ Despite the old gashes running diagonally across my face, I look… well. Healthy. It's strange.

**_Those scars still look hideous._ **

I shake my head and look away from the mirror. I throw on a shirt over my bra, leaving my usual thermals behind. It's surprisingly seasonable inside the walls of the fortress. _Magic?_ I lace up my boots and climb down the ladder, headed for the clinic.

The Inquisition has hired more healers to tend to Skyhold's increasing population. Part of me appreciates the help, but it's frustrating when they lack even a rudimentary knowledge of microbiology. I feel as if I'm constantly scolding them for not sterilizing everything. I'm fairly certain they think I'm a few apples short of a bushel, but they listen for the most part. Rorin walking around easily on his prosthetic leg definitely helps. The first time one of them says something about a balance of the humors, I laugh so hard I cry. They all avoid me more than usual after that.

The early morning crispness is refreshing as it fills my lungs. I'm just finishing the last stitch on a mild laceration when I hear slightly raised voices from across the courtyard. I glance over my shoulder as I douse a cloth with alcohol to disinfect the stitches. Solas, Cassandra, and the Herald are standing in a circle and discussing something apparently very important.

_Wait, I guess she's the Inquisitor now, isn't she?_

I bandage up my patient and tell him to lay down and get some rest. Cole seemingly appears out of nowhere, but I'm used to it by now. He starts making his rounds, soothing my patients as best he can. I've noticed they tend to sleep a lot better after he does his thing.

"Hello, Cole," I greet, cleaning up my supplies.

"Hello," he replies, somewhat shyly. He mutters to himself as he works, repeating what he hears in the minds around him.

A few moments later, Aila approaches the clinic, eyes on Cole. I narrow mine in confusion.

"Haven…" Cole seems to be speaking to the Inquisitor now. "So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape. But it could have been so much worse…" He looks at me briefly, then shifts his gaze to one of the patients. He starts rattling off the man's thoughts before doing the same for a woman nearby.

"You're feeling their pain?" I hear Aila ask as I tend to a different patient. This one just has a flu of some sort. She coughs weakly and I frown in concern.

"It's louder, this close, with so many of them…" Cole explains.

Aila frowns sympathetically. "Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?" she offers.

"Yes…" he admits, "but here is where I can help."

I smile softly to myself at his incredible selflessness. He continues reading the people around him and saying what he hears. He kneels by them and does little things to help ease their pain.

"You're using your powers as a spirit to help people," Aila sounds somewhat surprised and impressed.

"Yes," Cole replies. "I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made… mistakes," there's the faintest hint of regret in his voice. "But I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can _help_ ," he insists.

I haven't heard him talk so much before and I frown at his words. _Poor kid._

"If you're willing," Aila starts, "the Inquisition could use your help."

"Yes, helping. I help the hurt… the helpless. There's… someone…" Cole walks up to my worst-off patient: a male soldier slowly dying from a severe gut wound. Not even I can fix something like that. I can stitch skin quite well, but organs are a bit beyond me.

"It hurts, it… _hurts._ Someone make it stop hurting. Maker, please!" His voice changes back to the regular monotone. "The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy… help." Cole draws a dagger from his belt and Aila's eyes widen.

"Wait, wait! You're going to kill him? I… don't know about that," her Inquisitor mask is slipping.

I stand and walk over to them. "Cole is right, Aila. From what I can tell, he has perforated bowels. Even where I'm from… where healing is more advanced… an injury like that takes very precise surgery to repair and I'm just not capable of it. I've done what I can to dull the pain, but gut wounds are always a slow and agonizing way to die."

Aila frowns and deliberates for a while before sighing softly. "All right… just make it quick."

Cole slides his dagger quickly and cleanly between the man's ribs, striking the heart directly. The soldier gives one last breath before passing away. "He doesn't hurt anymore," Cole says quietly.

I offer the spirit a sad smile, "I'm sure he'd thank you, if he could." I begin prepping the man's body for cremation.

"I want to stay," Cole states emphatically to the Inquisitor.

She nods, "And you may." She bids us good day and leaves, looking a bit overwhelmed.

* * *

 

Two days after Cole joins the Inquisition, I decide to pay Solas a visit, hoping for a lesson on the elven language. The Inquisitor is off on some business and took some of the other companions with her, so I know exactly where to find him.

_I really hope he wasn't kidding._

I enter the rotunda and my focus is immediately drawn to the beautiful frescos Solas has already begun painting. The library above is deserted and quiet today. Solas himself is sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, immersed in a thick tome. I clear my throat softly and he startles a bit. When he sees me standing in the doorway, he hops up from his chair and straightens his back.

"Healer," Solas greets, "is there something I can help you with?"

"You can call me Rhynn, you know," I tease.

"Rhynn," he grins crookedly.

_Wow, my name sounds so elegant when he says it._

**_You've got to be joking…_ **

_Not now, asshole._

"Actually, I was wondering if that offer to teach me elven still stands…" I rub my forearm. _Why am I so nervous? This is ridiculous!_

He suddenly looks quite excited, smiling and beckoning me inside. "Of course! Come in."

I perch myself on the little couch against the wall, setting my violin beside me. I brought it along to work on during the lesson. It's in desperate need of some TLC.

"Shall we start with some basic vocabulary?" He turns his chair around to face me and sits.

I reply in the guttural language of my first planet, feeling a bit cheeky.

Solas blinks a few times and then leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "How many languages can you speak?"

"Quite a few," I give a small chuckle, dragging the case onto my lap and unlocking it. "It was mostly out of necessity, though. Every world I've been to that had people also had at least one new language to learn." I flip open the lid and pull out the pot of polish and some rags. "I couldn't always speak them properly, though, if I didn't have the correct throat structure."

Solas' eyebrows raise. "They had different throats?" he asks, confused.

"They had different everything," I correct. I recall a memory and start laughing, trying to speak through it. "There was this one race… they had a cloaca in their abdomen," more laughter, "and the whole time I kept wondering how they were the top species on the planet when they hadn't evolved past a fucking _cloaca_." I keep laughing until I realize Solas is just staring at me. He's somehow managing to look both fascinated and totally confused.

"And you have no idea what I just said," I smile wryly.

"I'm afraid not," he admits. "It seems you possess a wealth of knowledge." He's now looking at me like I'm a brand new book he can't wait to crack open. It's a bit disconcerting, so I focus on taking out my violin and setting the case aside. "What sort of instrument is that?" he asks, standing and moving closer.

"It's called a violin," I analyze the instrument in question. "It's not in the best shape, though," I lament.

He sits beside me on the couch. "How is it played?"

"With a bow," I point to the object still in the case with my boot. "You drag it across the strings to produce sound."

"Interesting," his head is tilted slightly. "May I?" he gestures to the violin. I shrug and hand it to him. He examines the instrument with a scholarly eye, turning it over and running his slender fingers over the wood backing. "We had similarly stringed instruments in Arlathan," he whispers, aware of how sound can travel, "but this is quite unique." He plucks one of the strings and I cringe.

"It's really out of tune," I reach for the violin and he hands it back to me. I begin plucking the strings while turning the pegs and fine tuners until it's a bit more in tune. I strike my thumb across the strings and smile softly at the sound.

"It has a rich tone," Solas observes. "I'd be interested in hearing how it sounds when played properly. Would you be willing to play something?" he asks hopefully.

I blanch, "I… uh, I don't know – "

Solas frowns slightly. "I apologize for my presumptuousness, Rhynn."

"No, no, it's fine…" I sigh, "It's just been a long time since I've played for someone and the last time… yeah…" I trail off. _The last time was for a little girl that I broke a lot of promises to._

"I understand," he tells me softly. "Maybe we can continue with your original purpose for being here?" Solas offers me a small smile that I try to return.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I grab a rag and begin wiping the rosin dust off of my instrument.

Solas spends the next hour or so teaching me some basic elven words while I clean my violin. I interrupt him a lot to ask questions and it's a testament to his patience that he never appears frustrated. In fact, he seems to enjoy my curiosity, offering a smile for every question, no matter how ridiculous. Eventually, I pack up my things and stand.

"I should probably head back to the clinic," I explain, not exactly eager to leave. _It's comfortable in here._

"Of course," he stands as well, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Thank you for the lesson, _hahren_ ," I say the last word with a cheeky smile.

Solas chuckles and smiles back playfully, "You are most welcome, _da'len_."

Still smiling, I make my way to one of the doors. _Why are there so many damn doors? Hope this is the right one…_ Before I can leave, I hear Solas call my name and I turn around with a questioning look.

He pauses, looking thoughtful. "You do know that Cole is a spirit?" he finally asks.

"Yes…?" I cock an eyebrow. _Where's he going with this?_

"I only mention it because you referred to him as a person the other day," Solas explains. "Most would not speak of a spirit in such a way."

I snort derisively. "Most people are willfully ignorant."

"Yes. They are," he agrees bitterly. My lips twist in understanding when I remember the things he's dealt with since waking. "I won't keep you from your duties any longer," he gives a small bow of the head. "But perhaps we may do this again soon?" I nod in agreement. "These past few hours have been rather enjoyable."

I smile a bit shyly and it feels awkward on my face. "Yeah, they have," I admit and exit the rotunda.

**_You're going to regret this._ **

_Probably._

* * *

 

Several weeks after arriving at Skyhold, I finally get called into the war room.

Leliana jumps right in. "The Inquisitor has gone to meet with a Grey Warden friend of Hawke's and – "

"Wait, wait wait!" I interrupt. "Are you telling me _Hawke_ was here and I didn't get an introduction?" _Are you fucking kidding me?!_

Leliana nods, looking at me strangely. "Yes… he was here for a few days but left with the Inquisitor."

_He. Well, that answers that question._

"Aww man!" I whine, acting a bit childish but… _Hawke!_

"Anyway…" Josephine picks up, "we were wondering: what do you know about the disappearance of the Wardens?"

My forehead wrinkles as I search my brain for information. "I think… Corypheus can produce a false calling. I suppose the Wardens have either retreated to a safer place or have fallen in with him. Perhaps a bit of both." All three of the advisors look concerned.

"That's… very bad news, indeed," Josephine says softly. "We'll need to begin preparing for either scenario." She begins scribbling furiously, lips pursed.

"There's also the matter of Empress Celene," Leliana reminds. "The _bal masque_ is scheduled for two months from now." Cullen groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and I raise a mental glass in commiseration. _Poofy dresses, petty gossip, and political intrigue… definitely not my thing._

"Ah, yes, of course!" Josephine's head snaps back up and she's smiling again. She looks directly at me and I get the feeling I'm not going to like the next words out of her mouth. "We'd like you to come along to advise on any situations as they occur."

 _Yep, definitely not._ My face contorts in horror, "You _what?!_ "


	13. Temper, temper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a long one! Credit to imjusthereforthefanporn for reminding me about the leeches. I had way too much fun with that. The song in this chapter is Godspeed (Sweet Dreams) by the Dixie Chicks. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqaBof47pmY 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine (or yours, most likely).

I trudge out of the war room, resigned to my grim fate. I tried to talk them out of taking me to the Winter Palace, but they're dead set on it. Even Cullen I-hate-Orlesians Rutherford insisted that I go.

_Fuuuuuuuckkk…_

I spot Varric working on something at his table by the fire and walk over. I plop down in a seat and lay my head on the surface.

"Something tells me you just got some really bad news," he says without looking up from his paperwork.

"They're making me go to the ball at the Winter Palace," I mumble dejectedly into the wood.

Varric looks up at that, eyebrows raised. " _You?_ "

"I know, right?"

He pretends to look thoughtful. "Hmm… yeah, I'm having a hard time picturing this. I wonder what they'll make you wear. Preferably something _pretty_ and _sparkly_ ," he grins.

"Oh God!" I wail. "And it'll be pink and have tons of frills… and I'll have to wear a corset and not be able to breathe!"

Varric chuckles, a bit evilly in my opinion. "Don't worry, Ruffles and Nightingale seem to know what they're doing fashion-wise."

"Josephine's favorite garment is a poofy golden shirt, Varric."

"Point taken." He goes back to working.

"Oh, and I'm mad at you," I add. I still haven't lifted my head.

Varric raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up again as he writes something on a piece of parchment. "Oh? Do tell, so that I may rectify the situation," he feigns gallantry.

"Hawke was here and you didn't tell me," I pout a bit, finally sitting up straight.

"Do my ears deceive me or is our infamous healer a fan of the Champion?" Varric teases. I roll my eyes and he smirks. "Next time Hawke visits Skyhold, I'll be sure to introduce the two of you," he promises, still looking entirely too amused.

"Ok, good," I reply, feeling a bit embarrassed now.

We're quiet for a few moments, Varric working and me enjoying the warmth from the fireplace.

"So," Varric begins again, "I noticed you've been spending quite a bit of time with our resident elven Fade expert." _Fishing, again._

"You have, huh?" I pause. "It's just lessons. He's teaching me to speak elven." _Not sure why I felt the need to clarify that…_

Varric smiles knowingly, and a bit patronizingly, and hums. "You keep telling yourself that."

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Whatever the meaning, I decide it's my cue to leave. I make my way down the stairs to the courtyard, hoping to check on my patients and then go get some food. The commotion waiting for me, though, says I'll be doing anything _but_ having a relaxing meal. One of the healers is arguing with a grizzled looking man; a small elven boy cowers behind them, eyes darting back and forth.

"Alright, what's going on?" I sigh wearily, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The older man opens his mouth to speak but the healer beats him to it, "This man here says he found _this_ kid by the side of the road on his way here." She jerks her thumb to the quivering child.

"He didn't have no family," the man interjects, "so I let him tag along."

" _Now_ ," the healer continues, looking a bit peeved at having been interrupted, "he wants us to take the little knife-ear off his hands!"

 _Congratulations! You've just won a spot on Rhynn's Prestigious Shit List._ I round on her with a sinister smile on my face, causing her eyes to widen a bit. "What's your name, healer?"

"Malara…" she watches me with trepidation.

"Malaria," I croon, purposefully messing up her name for my own amusement. My creepy smile disappears and my voice becomes cold steel, "If I _ever_ hear you use that term again, I'll make sure you're thrown out of Skyhold faster than you can say 'racism.' Do I make myself clear?" I hiss, eyes narrowed.

She glares at me but nods.

"Good. Then get out of my sight." She turns and marches off in a huff. I focus my attention back on the older gentleman. He's glaring at the healer's retreating figure. "I'm sorry about that. You say you found him just wandering by himself?"

"Yeah, wasn't anyone around for miles. I checked," he replies.

I kneel in front of the frightened little boy and smile softly, "Hello." He just keeps blinking at me and I try not to let my concern show.

"He doesn't talk," the man informs me and I can't help but frown.

_Trauma or mute?_

"I'd take care of him myself," he continues, "but I got no money. Poor little bugger would starve."

"Don't worry, we'll take care of him," I promise.

The man kneels before the boy, as well. "Hey, friend. You're gonna go with the healer now. She seems real nice so you be nice to her too, okay?" The boy gives a miniscule nod and the man pushes to his feet, groaning a bit as his joints pop. "Do ya mind if I stop by to check up on him sometimes?" he asks me.

"Of course not," I assure. "I'm sure he'd appreciate seeing you again." The old man takes his leave and I turn back to the boy.

"My name is Rhynn," I try again. "What's yours?" He stares up at me with overly large eyes. I just smile softly and walk over to an empty cot. "Can you have a seat here so I can take a look at you?" He shuffles over and climbs onto the cot.

"Alright, I just want to check you over for injuries. Is there any place that hurts?" He appears to be deliberating something before holding out his wrist. I take it carefully and gently roll up his sleeve. No lacerations, but his wrist is swollen and discolored. I gently probe the area with my fingers and flex the joint a bit. _Broken, I believe._

"Why didn't you tell the nice gentleman about this, buddy? He probably could have helped you with it." The boy shrugs and looks down at the blanket below him.

_Hmm… this seems more like trauma._

I grab a splint and some bandages and begin immobilizing his wrist. Once I'm done, I stand and look down at him. "Are you hungry?" He nods. "Ok, you stay here. I'll be right back." I climb the stairs and head for the tavern. I retrieve some bread, cheese, and fruit and return to the clinic.

Little buddy and I snack in silence and, by the end, he's beginning to nod off into his food. I take it and urge him to lay down. "Get some rest. I'll be right here."

I work on other patients for about half an hour before I'm drawn back.

" _Mamae!_ " he cries out as he jerks awake and sits bolt upright in the cot. I rush over.

_Dalish? What happened to his clan?_

"You're ok, little buddy. You're safe," I assure in a gentle voice. "Bad dream?" I guess and he nods. He seems exhausted, but unwilling to go back to sleep. "If I sit here, will you try to get some more sleep?" He thinks for a second and then nods, laying back down. I pull a cot over and perch on the edge, watching the sun set over the walls.

Twenty minutes later, when his eyes are closed but he keeps squirming, I sigh. "Still can't fall asleep?" I ask, knowing he's awake. His eyes pop open and he shakes his head. "Alright," I offer him my hand, palm up, and he quickly grasps it. With the other, I begin gently stroking his white-blonde hair. I take a deep breath and begin.

 

_"Dragon tales and the water is wide_

_Pirates sail and lost boys fly_

_Fish bite moonbeams every night_

_And I love you"_

 

He stares at me, wide-eyed, apparently surprised by my singing.

 

_"Godspeed, little man_

_Sweet dreams, little man_

_Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels' wings_

_Godspeed, sweet dreams_

 

_The rocket racer's all tuckered out_

_Superman's in pajamas on the couch_

_Goodnight moon will find the mouse_

_And I love you."_

 

His eyelids have begun to flutter and droop; he's struggling to stay awake and it's ridiculously endearing. I repeat the chorus and he finally loses the battle.

 

_"God bless mommy and match box cars_

_God bless dad and thanks for the stars_

_God hears amen wherever we are_

_And I love you"_

 

I sing the chorus a final time and trail off. I continue to stroke his hair after finishing.

"I didn't understand that song," he mumbles, half-asleep, and a wide smile blooms across my face.

"I know, little buddy," I chuckle. "Go to sleep now," I urge, but he's already out. I wait a bit longer before disentangling our hands and standing up.

"You're very good with children," an accented voice says behind me. Cassandra is watching me with an unreadable expression.

"I suppose so," I shrug and pick up the empty plate from earlier.

"Did you have children of your own where you're from?" she asks in an unusually soft voice.

I shake my head. "No, I was only a little over twenty when I left and… no."

"Ah," Cassandra's gaze shifts to the little elven boy fast asleep nearby. "I overheard… he has no place to go?" I shake my head. "The Inquisition has many resources. I'm sure some may be spared to find out where he's from."

I cast a soft glance at the boy, "That would be… nice." I start walking back to the tavern to return the plate and Cassandra follows.

"Have you ever considered having children?" she questions hesitantly. It's odd to see the Seeker so unsure of herself.

"Maybe once upon a time… but my life is much too dangerous and unstable now," I pause, deliberating. Something tells me I can trust her with this information. "Plus, I, uh… I don't think I even can, anymore… not after… everything my body has been through…" I look at my feet as I walk.

"I'm sorry," she says simply, genuinely.

I shrug, "It's okay. It doesn't bother me anymore." It's the truth; I hadn't even thought about it in a long while.

* * *

 

A week after the boy's arrival, there's another surprise waiting for me at the clinic. I woke in a good mood this morning, but finding Malaria placing leeches all over someone's body kind of ruins it.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" I shout, barreling down on her. She shrinks back.

"J-just a leech treatment," she explains.

I stare incredulously. " _Just_ a leech treatment? Leeches don't do shit, except drain your patient of precious blood!" I begin carefully removing the leeches from the patient and tossing them back into the bowl. "And you're using them on a woman who has already lost a ton of blood!" I exclaim.

"It's a common treatment. We need to remove the bad blood," she insists.

I pinch another leech off of the patient's arm and whirl around. I grab Malaria's hair and press the leech to the middle of her forehead. She starts screeching.

"Yeah, not very fun, is it?" I let go of her and she fumbles with trying to remove the parasite. "Maybe you should learn to use your fucking brain for once!" I go back to removing leeches from the patient, who is awake now and staring up at me in shock. "Using leeches on someone already low on blood… I swear to God…" I grumble as I work.

It takes me a moment to notice the courtyard is strangely quiet, except for a loud cackling. I glance up and realize that everyone has completely stopped what they're doing to watch me with dropped jaws and wide eyes. The only source of sound is Varric, standing at the top of the stairs and looking like he can't breathe from laughing so hard.

I grimace and look back down at the patient and continue to remove leeches. _Perhaps that was a bit of an overreaction on my part… but considering what she said the other day… soooo worth it._ I smirk deviously.

It takes about two hours for me to be called to the principal's office. Josephine is sitting behind her desk, looking highly disappointed.

" _What,_ exactly, do you think you're doing, threatening fellow Inquisition agents like that?!" Her voice gets kind of shrill when she's mad.

"I didn't threaten her," I reply.

Josephine stands up, placing her hands on the desk and leaning forward. "You stuck a leech to her _face_!"

I shrug. "She called the boy a knife-ear and then tried to take blood from a patient who was already low on it. I'm not about to apologize for my reaction to _that_." I cross my arms stubbornly.

Josephine's anger abates somewhat. "You should have come to me. I would have taken care of it." She sighs, "Now you've put the Inquisition in a predicament. Many of the new-comers believe you're unstable and are… a bit frightened of you. Our continued employment of you could cause us to lose certain valuable support."

I frown at my hands. "I… didn't really think about that," I finally admit.

Josephine sighs, "Perhaps I am overreacting and this will blow over soon enough. But… I do believe Healer Malara is no longer right for the Inquisition. She'll have to be let go." She gives me a slightly mischievous smile and I return it.

* * *

 

A couple more weeks pass and the Inquisitor returns with news of the Grey Wardens, from Alistair himself. _The_ Alistair. _Alistair and Hawke… why does that seem so important?_ The Grey Wardens are now participating in blood magic, apparently. Hawke and Alistair are to return to Skyhold soon with more news.

Preparations also begin for the upcoming masquerade, much to my immense displeasure. Leliana has to practically drag me to a fitting. At this point, I'm almost certain that I'll look like a frosted cupcake at the ball. Except not a yummy one… more like one that's been left out too long and has gotten a bit crusty around the edges.

My little elven patient talks a bit more each day. I find out that his name is Ghilani and that he has a tendency to sing little Dalish songs to himself when he thinks I can't hear. I pass on any information I can to Josephine, who has people looking for Ghilani's clan. Meanwhile, he likes to watch me work and seems fascinated by the art of healing. He's still so quiet, though, and sometimes I forget he's there. Then he'll say something and it scares me half to death. I think the little imp actually enjoys startling me; I caught him trying not to smile once. He's also taken to calling me _hahren_. I was unsure, at first, what to do about it. The significance of such a word is not lost on me, but I remind myself he's just a child and call him _da'len_. I figure the familiarity must bring him a small measure of comfort. _I should have Cole talk to him._

When I'm not working in the clinic, and when Solas isn't off aiding the Inquisitor, we continue our lessons. Sometimes we just talk, though. Solas' thirst for knowledge is insatiable and I tell him all I can about a variety of subjects. I ask him to share his own knowledge, as well, and he eagerly tells me stories of the Fade. A few times, we even go for a stroll outside the walls – and away from listening ears – and he talks a bit about Arlathan.

One evening, I enter the rotunda with the intent to ask Solas how to say a certain word in elven, but the sight that greats me halts me in my tracks. Whatever thoughts resided in my head before now float away like so many dandelion seeds on the wind. Solas is bent over, looking at something on his desk, and those tight leggings are hugging the curves of his ass as if to say, 'Isn't it nice? Don't you want to touch it?'

_Well hello there libido! Long time no see. I was certain you'd gone the way of the dinosaurs._

Solas straightens and turns around, greeting me warmly, "Rhynn." When I just kind of blink at him, face flushed, he starts to look concerned. "Rhynn?"

I snap out of it, blushing harder, and search for something to say. "Ah… yeah, um…" My eyes fall on the colorful walls, "These really are gorgeous frescos. You're very talented."

_Smooth, Rhynn. I'm sure he doesn't suspect a thing._

"Thank you," Solas replies sincerely, and if he _is_ suspicious of my odd behavior, he doesn't show it. "Was there something in particular you needed?"

"Ah, no… I guess I just stopped by to chat," I fling myself onto the couch and he leans against the edge of the desk.

"Did you have a specific topic in mind?" he teases.

I grin, "Yes, actually. I was wondering if you could tell me more about the places you've explored." The clinic has been rather stressful today and I find his voice soothing.

"I'd be happy to." He rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment and then begins. "I found the ruin of Barindur, a lost Tevinter city buried deep beneath a dead and barren wasteland. Volcanic ash had sealed it tight. In one dark moment, every living creature in the city seared and smothered. They were statues in the ashes, like a mold made to recall the lost."

His story sparks a memory from home, "There's a place like that on earth." Solas tilts his head, looking curious. "It's called Pompeii. The nearby volcano erupted so quickly, they had no time to flee. Their final moments are perfectly preserved… people can still go visit the site and see their figures."

"It is incredible how the same circumstances can occur on two separate worlds, is it not?" he muses.

"It happens a lot, actually. All the worlds I've been to and there are always a handful of things that remain the same," I stare up at the ceiling, fiddling with the key around my neck.

"I don't suppose one of them is corruption of power," he remarks wryly.

I snort, "That's the main one." The room is comfortably quiet for a moment, aside from the murmuring upstairs, before Solas speaks again.

"I wondered, Rhynn," he begins, sounding slightly unsure, and I look at him expectantly, "if you would care to join me in the Fade tonight?"

I grin, "I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhynn has no patience for assholes lol. By the way, is there anyone who is good at translating to Elven and would be interested in working with me? I would like to include actual Elven sentences eventually but I’m not all that great at it.


	14. We don't kiss people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has shown support for this fic. I'm seriously feeling the love right now! Let us commence with the Fade Date!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware, not moi.

"What caused the wound?

How large the teeth?

I saw new eyes were watching me

…

How many years

I know I'll bear

I found something in the woods somewhere"

 

-In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier

* * *

_The woods are dark and still as I creep through the underbrush, moving as silently as I can. My beating heart seems extraordinarily loud in the stillness that surrounds me. A twig snaps, forward and to my left, and I crouch further, sliding through the foliage._

It's just like hunting, Rhynn. No difference. Just like hunting, no difference…

_I repeat the mantra as I stalk my prey. I spot the large figure weaving among the trees, searching. I watch his pattern of movements for a handful of heartbeats before slinking closer. He's right in front of me now. I can hear him breathing._

Hunting, no difference.

_I slide my knife out of my belt and leap onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and an arm around his head. I press the blade to the left side of his neck and drag it across to the opposite side. It isn't deep enough and blood runs down his neck, but not fast enough. He thrashes and I hang on tightly. He falls to the ground and rolls onto his back, crushing me beneath his weight. I feel something in my chest pop but adrenaline keeps the pain at bay. He spins on his knees and swings his own blade. I roll away, but it catches my arm. I push to my feet and lunge at him, knocking us both to the ground where we scrabble in the dirt for dominance, for our lives. I bite and scratch and punch and think it's over when his hands close over my throat. I jerk desperately, feeling lightheaded, until I remember the soft spot Til told me about on their lower backs. I search with my hand for the knife I dropped and finally close my fist around it, wrapping an arm around his torso and sinking the blade in. He twitches and roars in pain, rearing back; I keep hold of the blade as it slides out of his flesh and it drips warm onto my hand. I make use of his distraction and lunge again, landing on top of him and pinning his arms down with my knees. I line the blade up with its earlier mark and sink it in as far as it can go, messily dragging it across. My second attempt nearly takes his head off and the blood squirts out, coating both of us and the ground below. His struggling weakens quickly. Dead._

_I sit back, arms covered in blood, and stare down at the life I've taken. The adrenaline is wearing off and I shake so much the knife slips from my hand and lands in the dirt. I clamber off of the body and scoot backwards to get away, starting to hyperventilate. His neck is gaping open and I vomit on the ground beside me, sobbing._

_"Oh God… Oh God…" I stare at my blood-soaked, dirt covered, unscarred hands and drag them over my face and into my longer hair, pulling. I sit there crying for an immeasurable amount of time, my only company the rapidly-cooling body at my feet. As the tears ebb, the back of my neck prickles at the feel of eyes watching me from the trees. I grab my knife and stand, searching the darkness, blood running down my arm and dripping off my fingers._

_Movement to my right. My head snaps to look and a huge, dark wolf emerges from the trees, its six eyes glowing faintly. I scream and turn to run, but a voice stops me._

_"Wait! Rhynn!"_

Solas…?

_The scene begins to blur a bit at the edges as I turn around. Standing where the wolf was only a second before is a benign looking elf, arm outstretched._

_"Ir abelas, Rhynn," he apologizes, looking haunted. "I didn't intend to frighten you." His voice gets softer, soothing. "Ir abelas…" His hand is still extended toward me and I take a step closer._

_"Solas?" My mind is spinning; this doesn't fit. He's not supposed to be here._

_"Yes, Rhynn. This isn't what you think," he urges. "You're dreaming. This is the Fade."_

_"The Fade?" I repeat stupidly, dazed._

_He nods, "Look closely at your surroundings. They are not as they appear."_

_I do as he says and examine the trees, the sky, the body on the ground. The more I look, the less real it all becomes and the trees and sky begin fading away. As I watch, the body stands and looks at me with glowing eyes, head tilted. I give a cry as the man I killed seemingly comes back to life. But the familiar grey skin slowly morphs into something luminescent and transparent, and my panic is replaced with curiosity._

_"Spirits," I hear Solas say. "Playing out your dream with you." The dark woods become towering spires and floating orbs of light as I finally understand._

"We talked about meeting in the Fade tonight, didn't we?" I ask the elf beside me. I look at my hands and find them clean, but once again scarred. I feel the ends of my hair tickle my neck as they flutter in the light breeze.

"We did…" he suddenly sounds hesitant. "I am… sorry, for intruding on such a dream. For… frightening you as I did." He's looking at our surroundings instead of at me.

"It's not your fault, Solas. We agreed to meet and you had no way of knowing. My mind just decided to replay a bad memory at the worst time." I don't mention that most of my dreams are bad ones.

"Still, I should not have made my presence known in such a manner." He's referring to showing up as a wolf, I assume.

"It only scared me because of the dream I was already having," I reassure but he still doesn't look entirely convinced. He also looks like he's dying to ask something. "Go ahead and ask," I smile weakly.

He hesitates, looking torn. "What… was that?" I've never heard him so ineloquent before.

"Ah… what was I dreaming about?" Solas inclines his head, looking like feels bad for asking. "The first time I killed someone," I state simply. His face shows understanding and sorrow. "Where are we now?" I ask in attempt to distract him.

Solas brightens, turning in a slow circle, " _Tarasyl'an Te'las._ It's… also where I locked away my _lethallin_ and went into _uthenera._ "

"Oh," my eyes widen in understanding and I reach out to touch one of the light orbs. It feels pleasantly warm on my fingertips. "It's incredible."

"Indeed," he smiles. "You stand on sacred ground at the height of Elvhenan, when my people were immortal and powerful, capable of impressive feats of magic and carrying the wisdom of centuries." I get the feeling he's showing off and it makes me smile. "I've thought about bringing you here, to the Fade, for a while now," he admits and then I watch in amusement as his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinge faintly. I let it go, deciding not to tease him. It was just a slip of the tongue, after all, and the poor guy is already blushing. He looks as if he's struggling to find something to say so I save him the trouble.

"And I have Fen'Harel himself as my guide," I saunter toward him playfully. "I feel flattered." I give a ridiculous curtsy, feigning reverence, "Your godliness."

Solas throws his head back and laughs, then plays along. He sweeps into a graceful bow, extending his hand, "Shall we begin the tour, _ma' falon_?"

I place my hand in his, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, "Lead on, Dread Wolf."

Solas leads me through the halls of _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ , my arm in his. He points out areas of interest and explains the meanings of the mosaics covering the walls. Our conversation eventually turns to other subjects as we walk.

"I heard a rather interesting piece of gossip the other day," Solas begins.

I arch an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Yes, I believe it mentioned something about you assaulting a fellow healer with leeches," his lips are twitching with amusement.

I laugh loudly. "I may have a bit of a temper," I admit unrepentantly.

"This I know," he's fully smiling now and I laugh again.

"I'm curious," I say after my laughter dies down, "are you called the Trickster solely because you fooled the Pantheon or were you a wily prankster in your youth?"

He looks a bit taken aback by the question at first, but smiles self-deprecatingly and replies, "Perhaps a bit of both."

"Really?" My eyebrows raise and I look him over. _I suppose it makes sense… god of rebellion and all._

"In truth," he continues, "I was a hot-headed youth, ready to take on the world if it so challenged me."

I continue examining him and I notice he stands a bit taller under my perusal. "I'm having trouble imagining it, looking at you now. You're always so calm. Sometimes I wonder what it would take to make you lose your composure."

Solas stops walking and turns to face me, eyes intense with… something. I suddenly realize how my words sounded and my face heats up. His eyes dart down to my lips. I lick them unconsciously and his pupils dilate. _Is his face getting closer? What is he…?_

"Rhynn," he whispers, looking _hungry_ , and I feel the puff of air against my parted lips. My mind freezes, everything freezes.

" _Solas_!"

Solas freezes too, blinking in confusion. _That wasn't me! Right…?_ My brain feels slow.

" _Ma halani!"_

 _Definitely not me._ It's a faraway voice, drifting across the Fade. I've never heard the voice before but Solas seems to recognize it, jerking back and muttering something in elven. I think I recognize the words it used… _Is it asking for help?_

"Solas, what is it?"

_"Sathan, falon! Ma halani!"_

He looks worried, troubled, and I repeat my inquiry, "Who is that?"

"My friend…" he takes a step back. "My friend is in trouble."

 _His friend…?_ The memory hits me like a baseball bat to the temple and I gasp softly in horror. "Oh no…"

"What?" he asks sharply, worry making him less gentle than usual.

"We have to hurry… they're going to hurt it!" _Oh God, how could I forget?_

" _You knew?"_ he hisses, eyes narrowed.

I feel sick. "I… yes, but I only just remembered. Solas – "

"Where?" he interrupts.

"The Exalted Plains."

"Wake up," he growls and _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ disappears. I open my eyes to semi-darkness and quickly clamber out of bed. I throw on the first clothes I find, lace up my boots, and strap on my weapons. I only have one cartridge left for the shotgun. _Fuck! Why didn't I make more rounds for the other guns?!_

**_Because you've been too wrapped up in playing Normal Person. Your life isn't normal, Rhynn! What are you going to do when you get transported to the next world with only knives to defend yourself?_ **

"You're right. I should be preparing. And I should have remembered about Solas' friend long before now." I climb down the ladder from my room. "What good have I been here? I could be keeping a lot of bad things from happening but I've had my head too far up my ass to care!" I hurry out of the tower, muttering to myself.

**_You're not going to be able to save his friend. It's already too late. You know that. He'll blame you. It's for the best, really. You were getting too attached anyways._ **

"No!"

**_Yes. He was going to kiss you, you know. What do you think you're doing? We don't kiss people. We don't do relationships at all!_ **

"Shut up! He wasn't going to kiss me! That's ridiculous!"

**_Fool._ **

I run across the courtyard and up the steps into the main hall. Solas is waiting inside.

"I already informed the Inquisitor. She has agreed to accompany us. We leave within the hour." His voice is cold, distant, and my chest squeezes. I just nod, unable to speak.

The Inquisitor joins us, a rather disgruntled-looking Varric following behind, and we head for the stables. Each of us on a horse, we ride hard for the Exalted Plains, only stopping to camp when absolutely necessary. Solas gathers more information from his friend the few times we are able to get sleep. The trip is mostly silent and wrought with tension. I am wracked with guilt the entire time and Solas refuses to look at me.

We finally arrive in the late afternoon and Solas leads us to where he can sense the spirit. We round a rock structure and he gasps, "My friend." He quickly climbs off his horse and the rest of us follow suit. He jogs closer and stops, looking on in horror, then growling in anger and frustration.

"I... don't understand. You said your friend was a spirit of wisdom, not a fighter. What happened?" Aila asks.

"They corrupted it," Solas glares at his hands. "A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose."

"So they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted," Aila clarifies. "Fighting?"

A rustling nearby has us all turning to look. A dark-haired mage is walking hesitantly toward us. Solas glares.

"Let us ask them."

"A mage!" the man says excitedly. "You're not with the bandits?" He doesn't wait for anyone to answer. "Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon…"

"You _summoned_ that demon!" Solas snarls, fists clenched. "Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time." His face twists with rage. "You made it kill. You twisted it against its purpose." He takes a menacing step forward and the other man falls back.

"I… I… I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can…" the man bumbles and I stare at him incredulously. _Is this guy for real?_

"We're not here to help _you,_ " Solas growls, his brows drawn low in an intimidating scowl.

"Word of advice?" Aila interjects venomously. "I'd hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here."

"Listen to me!" the man insists. "I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle – "

"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

"Shut. Up." Solas looks absolutely livid. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits." His voice is clipped and harsh.

The man frowns. "I – yes," he admits.

"You bound it to obedience," Solas continues, "then commanded it to kill. _That_ is when it turned." He turns to the Inquisitor. "The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

"What?" the man interrupts. "The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!"

Solas looks back to Aila, desperation showing plainly on his face. "Inquisitor, please!"

"Of course, Solas," she replies.

"Thank you."

"Move," Aila barks at the other mage and we follow her toward the summoning circle.

"We need to destroy the stone pillars," I add and she nods in understanding. The demon within the circle roars loudly.

"We must hurry!" Solas calls, running ahead of us.

I sprint for the nearest pillar, pulling out my shotgun and blasting it to nothing with a few shots. Aila is finishing off one by herself while Solas and Varric tackle another. I run to the last one and repeat the process, using up the rest of the shotgun ammo. As the last stone crumbles, the giant demon in the center of the circle rapidly morphs into the figure of a woman with glowing green eyes.

Solas walks over quickly and crouches before it. " _Lethallin, ir abelas._ "

" _Tel'Abelas,_ " the spirit replies in a hoarse voice. " _Enasal. Ir tel'him. Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din'an._ "

I see Solas bow his head in sorrow and his voice is soft when he replies, " _Ma nuvenin._ " He raises his hands and turns them inward, as if beckoning the spirit closer, and his friend fades away. " _Dareth shiral._ "

I don't understand everything they said to one another, but I get the gist of it and my insides twist. _Oh God, Solas… I'm so sorry… I should have stopped this from happening._

Aila steps forward and says softly, "I'm sorry, Solas."

"Don't be," he stands. "We gave it a moment's peace before the end. That's more than it might have had." He turns his attention to the group of mages standing nearby. "All that remains now is _them._ "

They approach and the idiot from before spews more nonsense, "Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."

"Shit," I hear Varric mutter.

"You," Solas advances on the group and they scurry backwards in fright, "tortured and killed my friend."

"We didn't know it was just a spirit!" the lead mage tries to placate. "The book said it could help us!"

Aila opens her mouth, reaching out as if to stop him, and I place a hand on her arm. She looks at me questioningly and I shake my head sadly.

The sight and smell of the mages burning alive has me struggling not to fall into my own horrific memories. They claw at the edges of my mind, threatening to pull me under. Solas' fury is as beautiful as it is terrible, and I suddenly realize this is the Dread Wolf I am observing, wild and full of righteous anger. I recall my words in the Fade and they sear through me.

_I wonder what it would take to make you lose your composure._

**_Be careful what you wish for._ **

"Damn them all," the Dread Wolf growls. "I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold." He passes me on his way to the horses and I reach out, wanting to extend comfort. He brushes past and climbs atop his horse, digging his heels in and racing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas = I'm sorry
> 
> Lethallin = kin
> 
> Uthenera = waking sleep
> 
> ma' falon = my friend
> 
> Sathan, falon! Ma halani! = Please, friend! Help me!
> 
> Tel'Abelas. Enasal. Ir tel'him. Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din'an = I'm not. I'm happy. I'm me again. You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death.
> 
> Ma nuvenin = as you say
> 
> Dareth shiral = safe travels


	15. Two fucked up peas in a pod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me recently: *checks phone obsessively for e-mail notifications about fic* E-mail notification! *opens e-mail* Gamestop Power-up Rewards… "Damn it, Gamestop!"
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Aila, Varric, and I head back to Skyhold. Noticing my reticent behavior, they try to comfort me.

Aila looks sympathetic, "He just needs time to grieve."

Varric is eyeing me thoughtfully. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" he asks, ever intuitive.

I nod, "Yes, but I only remembered after Wisdom started calling for help." I watch my horse's mane rustle in the breeze.

"Chuckles will forgive you. He's too sweet on you to be angry for long," Varric responds.

I ignore the second part of his response and try to believe the first, but the _voice_ is loud in my mind, whispering poison in my ears.

Solas isn't there when we arrive at Skyhold. I try not to let it bother me, but it does anyway.

**_It's for the best._ **

"No it's not. He's… he's my _friend_ and I let him down."

**_You always let your friends down._ **

"I know…"

Aila and Varric are looking at me askance and I realize I'm answering the voice out loud. I lower my head and walk to my room. The first thing I do upon return is pull out my journal and start going through the game in my head, writing down what I remember. I resolve to work harder at remembering from now on. There are a lot of gaps and I'm not sure I have the order correct, but it's something at least. I also allow myself to add a sketch of Solas. _He has ridiculously nice bone structure._

**_Yeah, sure, that's all it is._ **

"I don't remember asking you."

With a slightly clearer head, I begin to wonder if I should continue along this path, if I _should_ share the future. _What if I make things worse? What if my interference causes the Inquisition to lose this fight? I could drastically alter the course of events and ruin everything. I certainly don't need any more blood on my hands._ But, despite the possible consequence, I can't just stand by and watch people suffer. There's a lot that I won't be able to change, no matter what, but I'll do what I can.

* * *

 

Solas is gone for days. Guilt gnaws at me, tearing at my insides. I have a recurring nightmare in which I'm forced to pick my way through the bodies of everyone I've ever cared about, walking barefoot in the blood. Despite knowing I'm in the Fade, I can't make it stop.

Guilt isn't the only thing I feel, though. I also think about Solas a lot. I keep wondering what it might be like to kiss him. I'm still not entirely convinced that that was what he was attempting to do in the Fade. It just seems so… odd. But that doesn't stop me from picturing it. He has such soft-looking lips and I spend entirely too much time thinking about them. I begin imagining what his body would feel like under my hands, pressed against me. I catch myself daydreaming in the middle of work way too many times. Sometimes the daydreams are about his eyes, how expressive they are and how they look like the ocean during a storm. _I'm such a poet._ Sometimes they're about his ears. _I wonder what he'd do if I sucked on the tip of one._ Of course, some of them are about his ass. Okay, a lot of them are about his ass. My libido isn't just awake, it's an angry bear rudely awakened from hibernation by a nice ass in a pair of tight pants. Now it won't go back to sleep and it's driving me _crazy_.

All in all, I'm a jumbled mess of guilt and lust. _What an odd combination._ A few days of this and I finally have to slap some sense back into myself.

_What the hell do you think you're doing, pining like a schoolgirl with her first crush? This is getting ridiculous. Pull your head out of the clouds and do something productive!_

So I do. I ask Josephine for some ink, quills, and the largest parchment she can obtain. Since Josephine is who she is, that ends up being pretty large. I begin drawing diagrams of human anatomy based on what I can remember from my courses on earth and what I've learned since then. I've never been a patient person, but it's time I try to teach my fellow healers some of what I know. I present my idea to Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. They seem confused by the whole thing, but they know I'm a capable healer and give me permission to teach the others.

I gather everyone at the clinic that very day and start with the basics. I decide not to get into the microscopic aspects of the body; there are still many things this world needs to learn on its own. I begin by teaching them how the heart works and how blood travels through the body. By the end, there are more than just the healers sitting in on the lesson. I see Rorin amongst the small crowd and make a mental note to visit with him soon. He's an assistant archery trainer now and we've both been rather busy lately. Little Ghilani also joins, asking so many questions I almost can't keep up. His curiosity is what helps me push through the belligerence of the older students.

That evening, I finally have Cole talk to Ghilani. He'd kept his distance at my request, simply because I didn't want Ghilani to feel overwhelmed. Now, I kneel before the little elven boy.

" _Da'len_ , would you like to talk to my spirit friend? He's really nice and very good at helping people. You don't even have to say anything. Cole will know how you feel."

He seems to think about it for a moment before nodding, swinging his legs where they dangle off the edge of a cot. Cole seemingly materializes out nowhere and Ghilani's eyes go comically wide. I have to bite my lip to hide a smile. The spirit sits next to Ghilani and the two of them are quiet for a bit.

"Sad eyes, angry. _Mamae_ and I leave… I don't understand why," Cole begins, eyes far away. "Walking, walking… when will we stop? New faces in the white, _Mamae_ screaming…Run, run, run!" He turns to Ghilani and speaks solely to him now. "It wasn't your fault. She wanted you to go, wanted to keep you safe." Ghilani starts crying and Cole looks a bit panicked. "I don't understand… I thought I was helping…"

"You haven't worked with too many kids, have you?" I ask, a sad smile on my lips.

"No…"

"Sometimes they've just got to let it all out." I turn to the little boy and open my arms, "Come here, Ghillie." He flings his arms around my neck and holds on tight, sobbing. "Don't worry, Cole, you helped," I reassure and Cole watches curiously as I comfort the child in my arms.

_I'll have to update Josephine._

* * *

 

Two days later, I visit Harritt in the under forge, bringing my bullet molds with me.

"Harritt?" I call out and my voice echoes.

"Over here," comes his gruff voice.

I walk towards the back of the room, "I've got another odd request for you."

"Oh. Great."

I smirk and move to stand beside him where he's working.

"Oh!" a bubbly voice exclaims from the opposite side of the room and I turn to find a red-headed dwarf with a bright smile on her face. "You're that crazy healer everyone's been talking about! I don't get out of here much so I hadn't met you yet. It's good to meet you!"

I blink a few times at her. _Wow, she talks fast._ "Crazy, huh?" I chuckle.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Sometimes I don't think before I speak. Well, that's actually pretty typical of me. I hope I didn't offend you!" She still hasn't stopped smiling. _How can she talk when she's smiling that big?_

"Ah… no," I reply, amused. "I've been called worse, and 'crazy' isn't exactly inaccurate," I joke.

She giggles, "I think everyone is a little crazy. It's part of what makes people so interesting!"

"I can't disagree with that. I'm Rhynn, by the way."

"That's a pretty name. I'm Dagna! Nice to meet you! Wait, I already said that…" _Damn, this girl is a whirlwind._ "What are those?" She's looking at the molds in my hand.

"Oh, they're to make more ammunition for my weapons," I reply.

"I heard you had some really unique weapons. Do you think maybe I could take a look at them sometime?" she asks excitedly.

"No."

"Oh…" her face falls a bit and I almost feel guilty. "That's all right! Did you want help making those?" she points to my hands.

"Yes, actually, if you don't mind," I hand her the molds to examine.

Dagna and I spend the next couple of hours making more rounds for my revolver and pistol. They're really not the best quality and they'll probably do damage to my guns over time, but they're better than nothing. I stow them away in my violin case and decide to use my knives for the remainder of my time here. _Maybe I can have Rorin help me hone my archery skills._

* * *

 

I'm on the other side of the courtyard buying supplies from a vendor when I glance into the barn nearby and notice Blackwall working on something. He's staining a carved wooden… rocking griffon? An idea suddenly pops into my head and I finish my purchase quickly, drop the items off at the clinic, and retrieve my violin from my room.

I head back to the barn and clear my throat to get Blackwall's attention. He looks up and his eyes widen. _Is he still scared of me?_

"Um… hey," I clear my throat again. "I, uh, noticed you working on that," I point to the carving. He gives me a weird look. _God, I'm awkward._ "Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes."

"It's really good." He looks a bit pleased at that. _Hard to tell under all that hair, though._

"Oh… thanks," he scratches his jaw self-consciously.

"I didn't just come here to compliment your wood-carving skills," I joke and move further into the barn. "I… was actually wondering something. May I?" I lift up my violin case and gesture toward the table.

"Go ahead," he seems curious now, moving closer.

I place the metal case on his table, unlock it, pop the latches, and lift the lid. I take the instrument out and show it to him.

"This is my violin. I had it with me when I first left my home and, as you can tell, it's seen some shit." He chuckles softly. "Here," I hand it to him. He raises his eyebrows in surprise but takes the instrument with gentle hands.

He examines it from all angles, admiring. "This is a fine piece of craftsmanship. These are common where you're from?"

I nod, "Yeah. You probably already noticed, but I've had to replace some of the parts." I point to the pegs and the bridge. "I'm really not very good at carving, though."

"They seem to have held up well enough," he comments.

"Yeah, I suppose so… but, well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to carve new ones for me," I rub my forearm nervously. He hums, inspecting the parts I pointed out. I reach into the case and dig something out, laying it on the table. "I have the original bridge. It's broken, but it would probably be a better guide than my crap job."

"Yeah, I could do this," he nods decisively.

"Really?" I ask excitedly. "You'd be willing to?"

"Yeah, yeah. As long as you'd be willing to leave it in my care," he arches an eyebrow.

I bite my lip, "Erm… would you mind terribly if I watched you work? It's just that violins can be so finicky and you have to be really careful with the strings. Actually, I should probably just remove those…"

"This… violin… it's really important to you, isn't it?" he asks, looking thoughtful.

"Immensely," I respond sincerely, looking down at my feet to hide any emotion that happens to sneak onto my face.

"Alright," he nods and I smile. "Let's get started."

I take my violin back and begin loosening the pegs. Once the tension is relieved from the strings, I remove the bridge. I unravel the strings from the pegs and place them inside the case, then hand the two original pegs to Blackwall. He holds them up and examines them thoroughly.

"Blackwall…" I break the silence and he glances up at me warily. I lower my voice. "I haven't told anyone your secret yet and I don't plan on ever doing so. It's not mine to tell." I smirk at him, "So you can stop looking at me like a ticking time bomb."

He looks down at the table, pegs still clutched in his hands, looking torn. Then his face relaxes as he apparently comes to a decision. "Alright," he says simply and resumes his examination.

* * *

 

A week after Wisdom's death, Solas returns to Skyhold. Aila is just coming down the stairs as he enters the courtyard and the two of them meet halfway. They seem to start up a conversation and I tear my eyes away, looking back at the cloth that I've been cutting into strips. I try to immerse myself in work, blocking out anything else. I finish making bandages and stow them away before checking on my patients… again. After that, I start cleaning my tools even though they're already clean.

"Rhynn…"

I jerk in surprise, nearly dropping the scissors in my hand. Then my body goes rigid and I clench my fist around the metal tool. _Solas._ I don't turn around. Can't.

" _Ir abelas, falon…_ " he murmurs, voice full of regret.

I whirl about, brandishing the scissors at him, "Why are _you_ apologizing to _me_?!" His head recoils at my vehemence. _And probably the pointy object near his face._ I lower my arm.

"I have wronged you. I blamed you for something that was beyond your control," he responds, eyes sorrowful.

"Beyond my control," I scoff. "If only! No, it was well within my capabilities to recall that memory before I did. Instead, I let myself fall into a trap I swore to avoid years ago." My voice wavers, "I let myself play at normality, as if that's something I could _ever_ truly achieve!" He watches me sadly. "And since normal people don't have the knowledge I do, I pushed it all to a corner of my mind and _chose_ to forget! No, Solas," I shake my head, looking down, "don't try to make excuses for me."

I hear the rustle of fabric and his bare feet come into view. I raise my head and he's much closer than I thought, making my heart beat a bit faster. _My memory doesn't do that face justice._

"You're much too harsh with yourself, Rhynn," he lifts his hand and gently runs his thumb over the scar bisecting my left cheek. My eyes flutter closed and I lean into his caress involuntarily. It's been so long since anyone has touched me so tenderly… it almost hurts.

"After my friend called out to me in the Fade, I was not thinking clearly. I was never one to extend my trust easily, and for so long now I have been entirely alone. Quite without my conscious decision, I had begun to trust you." He drops his hand and I keep my eyes closed because if I open them now, he'll see all of the emotions swirling around inside my head… and I'm not ready for that. Solas lowers his voice to a whisper. "You knowing my true identity and… accepting it… made it that much easier. When you admitted to prior knowledge of my friend's capture, it felt like a betrayal." I hear him sigh softly. "It's no excuse for my behavior, though, and I apologize once again."

His words help loosen the knot in my chest some. _Thank you._

I open my eyes but don't look up just yet. I notice a leaf stuck to his shoulder and brush it off. Suddenly, the whole thing just seems so ludicrous and a chuckle escapes my lips. I finally look at his face and he's watching me curiously.

"We're really fucking ridiculous," I chuckle again and, after a second, he joins me. Our laughter trails off and we fall into silence. Silence which is then broken by a loud growling coming from his stomach. He gives an embarrassed grin, breaking eye contact.

"Would you care to join me for a meal?" he asks, eyes returning to mine. "I have not eaten today and it seems my body does not thank me for it."

I smile softly, "That sounds nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhynn is such a clueless dork.


	16. Rhynn Doll dress-up time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a ton happening in this chapter, but we're off to the Winter Palace part way through!
> 
> For anyone who's interested, here's what I had in mind for Rhynn's dress: http://sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com/post/124797968799/rhynns-dress-for-the-winter-palace-i-didnt
> 
>  Update: After Trespasser, there are some things I wanted to change. This chapter now contains a minor spoiler. You've been warned.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine

I like to think of the days following Solas' return as the calm before the masquerade storm. During the day, I continue giving anatomy lessons at the clinic. It's a bit of a challenge, when most of the people are highly skeptical of the information I present. Solas also likes to sit in on these lessons. It doesn't really surprise me. The man probably thinks new knowledge is better than sex.

Currently, I have a volunteer standing beside me, his back to the group as I point out and name muscles. The Latin names made them nervous at first, since it sounds similar to Tevene, but they seem to have gotten over it. After the lesson, Solas stays behind while the others clear out.

"This is fascinating," he says, excitement creeping into his voice. "And you claim these are only the basics?"

"Yeah," I reply, rolling up my diagrams to keep them safe. "There's a bunch of stuff that you can't even see."

His eyebrows raise and then furrow, "How do you know it exists?" He's not skeptical, simply curious.

"We have special tools called microscopes that let us see things that are really small," I place the diagrams in a chest and face Solas.

"Incredible," he breathes. "Might there be a way to make one of these devices here?"

"I… hadn't even thought of it, actually, but maybe," my eyes glaze over as I become lost in thought. _A basic microscope might be possible, but perhaps it can be made a bit differently to fit this world. I'll have to talk to Dagna…_

Solas looks like he's about to ask something else but a nasally voice interrupts him.

"Lady Rhynn!" _Eugh! No!_ It's the seamstress.

"If I run now, do you think she'd hunt me down?" I whisper to Solas, only half kidding. He gives me a bemused look.

"It's time for another fitting!" the woman calls and I can tell Solas finally understands; he looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"Please, no," I mutter but the seamstress is already upon me, grabbing my arm and dragging me away. _She knows me too well._ I look over my shoulder at Solas and mouth 'help me,' but now he's snickering at me. _Bastard._

The woman leads me back into the main part of Skyhold, down some corridors, and into her room.

"Remove your clothing and stand over there, please," she instructs and begins gathering her materials.

 _What? Fuck…_ I hesitantly remove my clothes and move to the indicated spot. I wrap my arms around my torso, feeling a bit self-conscious. The seamstress brings an armload of fabric over and hands me some sort of chemise thing. I pull it over my head and she sets the other stuff aside to help me with the ties. She pulls something else out of the pile and gives it to me.

_Is that a corset? That's a fucking corset. Motherfucker._

I glare at the offending article and then at her, "No."

"Please, Lady Rhynn. It's required for the dress," she requests patiently.

"Do I look like I want my organs squeezed into unnatural positions?" I ask rhetorically.

The seamstress sighs, "It won't be tied _that_ tightly."

I suck on my teeth in irritation, "Fine."

She looks relieved and helps me into the contraption, lacing it up the back. It's tight, but I can still breathe. _That's always a plus._ The seamstress helps me step into a medium-length hoop skirt and attaches it to the corset. Next comes some sort of ruffly underskirt. _This just keeps getting better and better!_ Two more skirts are layered on top of it. Both of them are longer in the back with a V-shaped front, showing off the ruffles of the underskirt. They're also made out of somewhat stiff materials.

The seamstress leaves and returns with a bodice that could probably stand up on its own. She pulls it over my head and works on lacing up the back. I glance down at my chest and snort. The front of the piece juts out, making my tits look a little like the bow of a ship. _I'll have to hold off on chest bumps, I suppose. I could kill someone with this._

The last item is a covering for my shoulders made out of overlapping pieces of supple leather. A chain across the front keeps it in place.

"Perfect," the seamstress declares. "How does it feel?

"Uh… stiff?" I don't think I could bend over if I tried. _What if I drop something at the ball?_ I get a sudden mental image of myself trying to pick up a piece of food from the floor and falling over, face-first.

She rolls her eyes at me. _Someone's feeling sassy._ "You'll be wearing black stockings underneath, as well. And I still need to make the mask." I'm not sure if she's talking more to me or herself. "Alright, let's get you out of it."

I groan loudly.

* * *

 

My nights are usually spent in the Fade with Solas. He's attempting to teach me how to manipulate my surroundings. It's not going so well.

"God damn it!" I throw up my arms in exasperation. "You make this look so easy!"

"I've had thousands of years of practice," Solas reminds me calmly. "You've only just started."

"Well, when you put it that way…" I sass and go back to _imagining_. Literally, that's what Solas told me to do: imagine really hard. _Thanks, Fen, so helpful._ "I've been meaning to ask," I continue distractedly. "Would you prefer that I call you Solas or Fen'Harel when we're here?"

A beat of silence. "Solas," he replies softly.

My eyebrows creep up my forehead. "Really?"

Solas looks amused, "Yes. It is my name, after all."

"Oh. I didn't know that," I admit and he hums in response. _Who names their kid Pride?_ I snort at my thoughts.

"Focus, Rhynn," Solas gently chides and I roll my eyes before closing them and concentrating.

I picture a scene in my mind, trying to project it onto the surrounding Fade. I do this for a few moments before opening my eyes again. _Still nothing._ "Son of a bitch…"

Solas smirks, "I believe I saw that rock over there twitch."

I snort, "You're such an ass."

* * *

 

A few days prior to the masquerade, I am called into the war room.

"Tell us what you know about this ball," Cullen says almost as soon as I enter.

My forehead wrinkles as I recall what I wrote in my journal. "There are three major players we need to worry about, correct?" They nod. "It doesn't have to be a choice of one or another. There's a way to get all three of them to work together, if we play our cards right. There's… some sort of connection between the empress and the elf…" I frown, trying to remember.

"There are rumors that Celene and Briala were once lovers," Leliana supplies.

"Ah, that's right!" I look at Aila, "You need to find a necklace. It's locked up, so you'll need to be careful." She nods and I pause. "I think the assassin is someone with access to Celene, but I can't recall who. It's not someone you'd expect… hopefully being at the palace will jog my memory."

"I already have an idea of who I'm going to ask to accompany me, but do you have any suggestions?" Aila asks.

"Vivienne would be a good choice," I reply. "She certainly knows her way around these kinds of events. Dorian, as well."

Aila nods in agreement, "Yes, I thought so too."

"Solas," I add and everyone gives me confused looks.

"If this is just because you're sweet on the elf…" Cullen starts and I shoot him a glare.

"No. It's because the weirdo actually _enjoys_ politics _._ God only knows why…" I mutter the last part. "He'd probably have fun there." Aila still looks a bit skeptical but nods again. "I suppose Varric would be another option. He's good at reading people, so he might be able to provide insight for you."

"Thank you, I'll take that into consideration," Aila replies. "Is there anything else you recall?"

"No, unfortunately. I'll keep trying to remember more and, like I said, hopefully actually being there will help my memory."

"Thank you, Rhynn," Josephine pipes up. "Before you go, I just need one quick thing," she rustles her papers and readies her quill. "What is your full name?"

 _Ugh._ "You mean they can't just announce my first name only?" I ask wryly.

"I'm afraid not," she smiles slightly and I sigh.

"Rhynnara Lorelae Torpin." _What a fucking mouthful. My parents were ridiculously eccentric._ I spell it out for her, as well.

She hums and writes it down. "Thank you. You may go. We leave for Halamshiral at dawn," she says politely.

_Oh joy._

* * *

 

I set my things down on the ridiculously ornate bed and look around. We're staying at a fancy place outside of the Winter Palace. _Being part of the Inquisition certainly has its perks._ A servant enters behind me, carrying more bags. He sets them down and bows out of the room. While I'm pulling some of my things out, two more servants – women this time – enter the room and bow.

"We're here to help you get ready," one of them says and I frown.

"Ah… that's not necessary… except maybe to lace up this stupid dress," I gesture to the box that it's in. I don't like the idea of being waited on.

"Please, my lady, the Lady Leliana was rather insistent," the other chimes in.

I groan and scrub a hand across my face, "If you must…"

They nod and begin drawing a bath for me. In a real bathtub. _Oh, that's going to be nice..._

The two women remain in the bathroom and I glance between them. "You can help me with the rest, but I am fully capable of bathing myself."

They look confused but leave the room. _Can rich Orlesians not even bathe on their own?_ I begin stripping out of my clothes, tossing them against the wall in a heap. I step into the bathtub and sink into the warm water. _Oh… heaven…_ I close my eyes and lean back. _Might as well enjoy this for a little while._

I lay there for a few minutes, just letting my muscles relax and breathing deeply. Eventually, I commence with the actual bathing. There is some sort of lavender soap for my body and… oil? For my hair? _Maybe I'm_ not _capable of bathing myself._ I huff a laugh at my own expense. I start by scrubbing my body and hair, getting rid of some built-up dirt that I couldn't take care of with just a bucket. After that's done, I give the little bottle the side-eye. I shrug and grab it, pouring a bit into my palm. It also seems to be lavender scented… maybe with a bit of something else, as well. I run my hands through my short hair, massaging the oil in, then dunking my head under the water to rinse.

The water has grown tepid and I step out, wrapping one of the provided towels around myself. I use another to dry my hair before gathering my clothing and exiting the bathroom. The two ladies are sitting in the bedroom, waiting for me. Before I can protest, they have me sit at a bench and begin combing my hair. It has a few snarls in it and I wince as they catch.

"We're going to trim your hair a bit." _What?_

"Uh, no thank you," I reply.

"Just a little to even it out," she insists and I take a deep breath to keep calm.

"Fine."

The next few minutes are filled with only the snipping of scissors and small chunks of black hair fluttering to the floor. I suppose my hair was rather jagged, considering I usually cut it with my knife…

The other woman is rustling through one of the bags and setting items on the vanity in front of me. They look like cosmetics and I curl my lip. _Aren't I going to be wearing a mask? What's the point?_

"Close your eyes," she instructs and I give her a skeptical look but resign myself to it, doing as she asks.

She lines my eyes with a bit of kohl, then applies powder to my face. I can feel her trying to cover up my scars and I growl, "Leave them alone." _If I have to put up with this whole thing, the least the Orlesians can do is put up with my scars._

She hesitates for a moment before continuing, complying with my words. After rubbing rouge onto my cheeks, she declares me done and leaves. The lady working with my hair huffs in frustration and I chuckle.

"Yeah, there's not much that can be done with it," I admit.

"I suppose I'll just have to let it dry…" she sighs. The make-up woman comes back with a tray of fruit and my stomach gives a longing rumble. She sets it in front of me and I munch on the contents while waiting for my hair to dry. I have no idea why everyone is going to such trouble for the crazy healer from another world. It's a bit trying, but I probably shouldn't complain.

"What are your names?" I ask them. They look surprised, which makes me a bit sad on their behalf. _Nobody notices the workers._

"Elena, my lady," the make-up woman says.

"Catherine," hair-lady adds.

"Do you want some?" I ask, pointing to the fruit. They look at each other nervously.

"We really shouldn't," Elena replies.

"Yeah, you should," I insist. "It's really good. Here," I hand the tray to her.

She takes it and deliberates, "Well, if you say so…" She takes a strawberry and passes the tray to Catherine. "Thank you."

"No problem," I pull a grape off of its stem and pop it in my mouth.

It doesn't take too long for my hair to dry, considering its length. Catherine tousles it a little, trying to add volume. It works somewhat, but she eventually gives up and helps Elena get out the dress.

"Here are your undergarments, Lady Rhynn," Elena hands me the chemise, a pair of black leggings, and… a pair of frilly underwear. _Excuse me?_

"These… aren't my underwear," I say confusedly.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Elena flutters her hands. "Lady Leliana wanted me to tell you that… and I, ah, I'm quoting her…" she blushes and hurries through the next part, "you can't very well wear your typical disgusting smalls with such a beautiful dress." Elena sighs after getting the words out.

"How the hell does Leliana know what my underwear look like…?" They both blink at me. "Never mind, I don't want to know." I turn my back to them and tug on the ridiculous underwear before dropping the towel still wrapped around me and pulling the chemise over my head. The leggings are slightly tight – on purpose I'm sure – and I have to roll them on. Hoping they don't ask questions, I quickly strap my knife to my leg. Elena comes over and helps me with the corset. _So we meet again, my old nemesis._

The amalgam of skirts go on next, followed by the boat bodice and leather shoulder thing. Catherine brings over a pair of black ankle boots with a bit of heel. I groan. _Fuck everything._ They both have to help me into them, one supporting me and the other tying the shoes. The last thing is a triangular leather mask which Catherine helps fix to my face.

 _Not too long ago, I was battling giant centipede-things on an alien planet. Now, I'm being dressed by servants for a masquerade ball._ I start laughing hysterically and the two other women in the room eye me warily.

I tamp down my laughter. "Sorry, this is just so surreal." I don't think they understand, but they nod anyway. I turn and look at myself in the vanity mirror. _Ok, it could be worse. At least it's not pink._

"The party will begin soon," Elena reminds me. I give my reflection one last look and exit the room, tottering in my heels.

_Maybe I'll get lucky and break an ankle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual ball is next chapter, where I get to make Rhynn even more uncomfortable.


	17. It's a two-drink kind of night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, people! We exceeded 100 reviews with the last chapter! That includes my responses, but still… wow! Thank you all for the support! Here’s the next part of Halamshiral. I edited it while sipping a Mudslide, so if there are any typos I missed, blame it on the alcohol!
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish Dragon Age was mine, but alas…

When I enter the foyer of the estate, everyone turns to look at me and I can't help the color that creeps into my cheeks. Cassandra, Aila, and Cullen are staring at me like I've suddenly grown a second head. Josephine and Leliana look smug. Solas is looking pleasantly surprised, somewhat sympathetic to my obvious misery, and… something else. And I may be imagining it, but Vivienne looks _slightly_ less disapproving than usual. I make my way over, rubbing my forearm and taking in the group before me.

Aila is wearing a blue dress that shows off her powerful shoulders. Cassandra and Cullen are wearing ornate uniforms with lots of angles. Cassandra is also wearing pants and I get a bit jealous. _Why don't I get to wear pants?_ Vivienne is looking resplendent in golden robes with an imposing collar. Josephine is wearing a pretty green dress with... yep, ruffles. Leliana's dress is sleek and has hints of her usual chainmail. Solas is wearing more understated robes and I wonder if he's playing the part of a servant like in the game. One thing I notice about everyone's attire, including mine, is that each outfit has subtle armor-like accents. _Interesting_. Everyone is wearing a mask except Solas, who is wearing some sort of weird head covering.

"Well, shall we?" Josephine asks cheerfully and we head for the carriages that will take us to the palace.

Halamshiral is grand and ridiculously ostentatious. There's a lot of whispering and tittering as we enter the courtyard and I keep my eyes forward.

"Oh my! Do you see her skin? What a shame!"

 _And so it begins._ I roll my eyes.

"Pay them no mind," Cassandra murmurs and I turn to look at her.

"Oh, it doesn't really bother me. I'm not ashamed of my scars," I tell her and she seems to approve of my response.

**_You're sure about that?_ **

_Your input is really not needed or wanted._

The Inquisitor is approached by an important-looking man and they begin talking. _Gaspard?_ The man leaves and Josephine, Vivienne, Leliana, and Aila begin mingling with the other guests. The rest of us huddle awkwardly in a corner. Rather, Cassandra, Cullen, and I are feeling out-of-place. Solas is leaning indolently against a wall, content to just people watch. After a bit, Aila joins us, holding out a halla statuette.

"Hey, look what I found just lying around!"

A memory clicks into place. "Keep looking for those," I tell her quietly. "They're used to open locked doors here. Don't ask me why, because I have no clue."

"Who uses halla statues as keys?" Aila looks extremely confused.

"Orlesians," Cullen grumbles, as if that explains it all. It probably does.

Aila laughs and Cullen smiles slightly at her. "Come on, it's time to go inside," she tells us.

There are even more people inside and I start to feel a little claustrophobic. Solas comes to stand beside me and his presence eases the itch between my shoulder blades.

"I hope they have good hors d'oeuvres," I tell him. "I'm starving."

"I have always been partial to the frilly cakes, myself," he replies. Vivienne, who is standing nearby, sighs and walks away.

I affect a hurt expression, "It's like she doesn't like us or something."

Solas chuckles, "Madame Vivienne very much enjoys a sense of structure and regulation. I represent the opposite of her ideals." We pick a relatively uncrowded spot to stand and wait.

"Now that we are at Halamshiral," Solas continues, "are your memories more forthcoming?"

I sigh and frown, "Not really…"

"We've only just arrived. Perhaps something further in will stir one to the surface," he supposes.

I shrug, "Hopefully."

We're silent for a moment. "I am posing as the Inquisitor's servant," he says softly, leaning in. _He kind of smells nice…_ "Perhaps it is not wise for you to be seen in my company."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" I tease and he shakes his head at my antics. "I already stick out like a sore thumb, Solas. Might as well give them something to gossip about." We smirk at each other.

A little while later, Aila collects us all to enter the main ballroom.

"Remember," Josephine whispers to us all, "you are here representing the Inquisition. Be at your best." Cassandra scoffs and I completely agree with her. We meet up with Gaspard at the doors and enter the ballroom. Josephine hands a scroll to the announcer and we wait at the top of the stairs.

"And now presenting," the announcer begins in a grandiose fashion, "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons." The Duke bows and slowly descends the lower stairs. "And accompanying him… Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick! Champion of the blessed Andraste herself!" Aila bows to the Empress and Celene gives a courteous incline of the head. Gaspard and Aila begin walking side-by-side.

"Accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena – " _I'm suddenly thankful for my name._

"Get on with it!" Cassandra interrupts and I have to struggle not to laugh.

"…Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine." Cassandra moves forward, a slight scowl on her face.

"Madame Vivienne," I swear she poses a bit before gliding down the steps. "First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain." _Oh!_ A memory bubbles up. _I'll need to talk to her later… if she'll let me._

Solas is up next. "The Lady Inquisitor's elven servant, Solas." _If only they knew who they were calling a servant…_ I have to cover up my snicker with a small cough.

"Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath," Cullen looks uncomfortable but tries to hide it with rigid posture. "Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall."

"Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine." Leliana saunters across the room, hips swaying.

"Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition." Josephine strides with confidence and grace.

 _Saving the best for last._ "And Lady Rhynnara Lorelae Torpin, advisor to the Inquisition." I descend the stairs carefully, holding my head up as I make my way across. I can feel all eyes on me, as I'm sure those before me did. More whispers. It seems like hours before I reach the other end, where Aila is already conversing with Empress Celene.

"Allow us to present our cousin," Celene is saying, "the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering never would have been possible." I look to the woman standing beside Celene and freeze. _Her!_ I'm so distracted by the sudden memory that I almost forget to bow. I quickly do so and walk up the stairs to the left. Leliana is leaning against the railing and I approach her.

Discreetly checking to make sure no one is around, I lean in slightly, "I need to speak with you."

Her eyes snap to mine and she nods. "One moment." I stand next to her as we wait for Aila to finish speaking with Celene and come up the stairs.

"Inquisitor," Leliana greets. "A word, when you have a moment." She turns back to me, signaling that I should follow. She leads us to a secluded alcove outside the ballroom and looks at me expectantly.

I don't hesitate. "It's the Duchess," I say quietly and Leliana's eyes widen.

Her eyes narrow again in contemplation. "I thought perhaps it might be Celene's new occult advisor…"

 _Wait…_ "Occult advisor…?" Before she can respond, I continue in a whisper, "Leliana, that's Morrigan."

"Morrigan?!" she hisses in surprise, eyebrows nearly to her hairline. "You are sure of this?" I nod once and her brow furrows. "Well, then… that changes things," she mutters to herself, then looks back to me. "Thank you, Rhynn. This information is invaluable."

I shrug, smoothing a hand down the front of my dress. "I didn't really do anything… but you're welcome."

"Is there anything else you can recall?" she asks, all business.

"No…"

"Very well. Enjoy the festivities while you can," she suggests, "and come to one of us as soon as you remember anything else."

"Of course," I nod and return to the party. My first order of business, I decide, is to find the food. _Heerrre yummy little appetizers…_

There are multiple tables in the ballroom covered in fancy looking finger foods. I make a bee-line for one of them and examine the contents. I grab one of the provided plates and begin piling it with little sandwiches, quiches, tarts, and cakes. The plate looks ridiculously delicate, so I switch it to my left hand for a more solid grip. _The more fingers holding this, the better. Let's_ not _break anything, yeah?_

I wander around and finally spot Solas near a window, weaving my way through the groups of people to reach him. He's leaning against a wall again, enjoying himself way too much. _He looks a little too attractive when he lounges like that…_

Solas notices me and nods in greeting, " _An'eth'ara, 'ma falon._ "

I prop myself against the wall beside him, choosing a sandwich then holding the plate out for him. "I brought you some tiny cakes." I eat the sandwich whole. _Mmm… finally._

" _'Ma serannas_ ," Solas smiles and picks up one of cakes with two fingers.

" _Da'rahn_ ," I reply, shoving a quiche in my mouth. Using elven in this setting feels like a small but satisfying rebellion. "Do elven servants usually stand in corners and stare at people?" I tease.

He scowls. _Ok, not the reaction I was going for._ " _Elven servants_ usually remain out of sight. And out of mind," he replies scathingly.

"I was just joking around, Solas," I attempt to calm him.

His scowl drops. " _Ir abelas_ … I let my temper get the better of me once again."

I snort, "It's not like it happens often. And I know that's a sensitive topic, so…" I shrug and try one of the cakes. "Hmm, these are actually pretty good." His eyes crinkle a bit as he snatches another for himself. For the next while, Solas points out people he finds particularly interesting and tells me what he has observed and overheard.

I laugh into my hand. "Okay, I can see why you look so amused over here," I admit, "but I think I'd still rather be back on Bug World."

"Bug world…?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the last planet I was on had humongous insects. Many of them wanted to kill me. That's how I got this scar," I hold up my left arm for his inspection.

He looks slightly disturbed, "And you would rather be _there_ than a relatively safe Orlesian ballroom?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't exactly my thing," I grin wryly and he laughs.

"Yes, it's not hard to miss," he replies.

"Ouch," I joke.

Suddenly, the Inquisitor is standing before us. She nods in greeting, "Rhynn," then turns to Solas, "You look like you're having fun."

"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and _sex_ that permeates these events," he responds with a smirk. _Uh, Solas, your Dread Wolf is showing._ I raise an eyebrow at him but he's not looking.

Aila is just kind of blinking at him. "You seem more comfortable with the Grand Orlesian Ball than I'd have expected," she comments.

"I have seen countless such displays in my journeys of the Fade." _Uh huh…_ "The powerful have always been the same, only the costumes change." _Tone it down a bit, Fen._

"Have you seen anything useful?" Aila asks, apparently having decided to ignore Solas' odd comments.

Solas shakes his head, "No, sadly. I do not have the look of one of the elven servants or I might well be invisible." His voice turns a bit sharp, "I wonder how masked men live their lives without ever seeing that servants have an entire society of their own." _Speaking from experience?_ "If you want to find something useful, I would pay attention to what the servants do," he suggests and Aila nods thoughtfully.

"Have you encountered any trouble with the nobles?" Aila asks with a bit of concern.

"The Orlesians don't quite know what to make of me," he responds with a hint of humor. "I have kept to myself, for fear of giving them some purchase to cling to. The food and drink are excellent, however," he smiles at me. _Am I the food and drink? Wow, that sounds a bit dirty._ He looks back at Aila, "And the servants seem happy to refill my glass."

"I'm glad to hear that," Aila smiles back. "I did have another purpose for visiting, though. I need you to come with me." Solas nods and hands me his half-eaten cake. _What the fuck? You couldn't just finish the damn thing?_ I set it gingerly on the edge of the plate as they walk off. _Now what?_ I finish the last tart and move towards one of the food tables to place the dirty plate in a designated place.

"Lady Torpin!" a heavily accented voice calls from behind me and I freeze. _Maybe there's another Torpin here…_ I turn around to find an Orlesian woman in a large hat looking directly at me. _No such luck._

"Ah… just Rhynn, please," I request.

"My apologies, Lady Rhynn. My name is Lyrene. It is a pleasure to meet you," she gives a small bow. _It is?_

I return the bow awkwardly, "Likewise." _Why is she talking to me?_

"I saw you announced and just _had_ to speak with you," she bubbles. "I'm quite curious what it is you do for the Inquisition." _Ah, digging for gossip._

"My unique experiences allow me to supply the inquisition with valuable advice," I try to keep it as vague as possible.

"Your countenance attests to such experiences," there's a mocking edge to her voice that I almost miss. _Already? Snaps for you, Lyrene._ Another woman joins us and Lyrene begins introductions, but I'm not listening because I can suddenly feel one side of the frilly underpants start creeping towards my ass crack. _Don't you dare…_ It slips all the way. _God damn it._

"You have so many scars!" the other woman comments. "Were you a soldier?" she asks curiously. _I don't have the patience for this._

"No," I reply succinctly and bow my head slightly. "Pardon me, I'm needed elsewhere." _Yeah, I think I hear the champagne calling my name._ I walk away rather quickly and toward a server with a tray of drinks. I grab two, because it's that kind of night. I can also feel the other side of the underwear slipping. _This is why practical underpants are the best underpants._

As I search for a place to stand, I notice Cullen next to one of the tables, looking overwhelmed by a group of simpering women. I decide to take pity on him. I set the second drink in front of him and place myself on the opposite side of the table, staring down the women with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh!" one of them says after a long, awkward moment of silence. "We were supposed to go say hello to Gisette, remember?" The rest of the girls babble their agreement and the group leaves.

"Thank you," Cullen breathes, relieved, and takes a large sip of the champagne.

"You're too polite, Commander," I chide.

He sighs, "I can't make the Inquisition look bad."

"Most eyes are on the Inquisitor," I suddenly smile mischievously. "Speaking of which, you could have just told those ladies you were already taken."

He chokes a little on his drink. "W-what?" he splutters.

"You and Aila," I clarify, as if it's needed.

He blushes and looks away. "Is it that obvious?"

I chuckle. "A bit. The two of you tend to make goo-goo eyes at one another."

"Maker," he mutters, covering his face with a large hand, and I laugh harder. "Well, what about you and the apostate elf?" he asks, a bit petulantly.

"What about us?" I reply archly.

"You both make… goo-goo eyes," he flaps a hand, "at each other!"

"We do not!" I scoff and Cullen's face conveys his skepticism. "Besides," I add, "he doesn't like humans that way." _Don't know how I remember that._

Cullen looks a bit taken aback, "He doesn't? That's a bit prejudiced of him." I bark out a laugh then sigh.

I raise my champagne in a toast, "To surviving this night."

"Here, here," he clinks his glass to mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An'eth'ara: Greetings
> 
> 'Ma falon: My friend
> 
> 'Ma serannas: My thanks
> 
> Da'rahn: No problem
> 
> Ir abelas: I'm sorry


	18. Time well-spent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last part of Halamshiral. You know what that means!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon age = not mine.

Cullen and I are engaged in conversation and well into our third glass of champagne. I'm also wiggling my hips subtly, trying to dislodge the Wedgie From Hell; it's not working. An arm suddenly reaches around me and sets a plate full of little sandwiches on the table. I turn to find Solas giving me a small smile.

"I noticed you enjoyed these earlier, so I brought more," he steals one and bows to Cullen. "Commander."

Cullen returns the gesture, "Solas."

Solas' eyes drop to my hips, "What _are_ you doing?"

"Uh, nothing," I stop moving. " _'Ma serannas_ , Solas," I dig into the sandwiches with relish. Cullen's eyebrows furrow in confusion but neither Solas nor I attempt to clarify.

The two of them start talking about something, but the food has my full attention. As I'm munching on one of the delicious wedges, a bit of bread breaks off and falls into the Grand Canyon. "Shit," I mutter and set the rest of the sandwich down. Cullen and Solas are looking at me now. "Cover me," I tell them, "I'm going in!" I laugh at my own cleverness and start digging in my cleavage for the lost crumb. "Aha!" I pull the piece of bread out and flick it onto the floor.

Cullen stares at me incredulously and then looks around, as if checking whether anyone saw my display. Solas is watching me with a strange mixture of delight and the same incredulousness as Cullen. _Okay, maybe I'm a bit buzzed…_

I finish off the problematic sandwich without further mishap and glance at Solas. "Is that blood on your cheek?" I reach up without thinking and wipe off the red fleck. Solas' face is unreadable as he watches me out of the corner of his eye.

"Trouble?" Cullen asks and we turn back at him. He's giving me a knowing look that has nothing to do with his question. _Shut up, Cullen. No one asked for your opinion._

"Nothing we could not handle," Solas replies vaguely.

Cassandra pulls free of the crowds and joins us, leaning against the table, "Ugh!"

"I see you're enjoying this about as much as I am," I comment sarcastically.

"This _must_ be a form of torture," she complains and then looks at me. "I had noticed you looking rather disenchanted with the event, as well."

I snort. "I hate petty people, my feet are killing me, and my smalls are going places they shouldn't when I can't do a damn thing about it. So yeah, I'm a bit _cranky_ ," I pick up my glass. "The alcohol is helping, though." I take a sip as all three of them start laughing. _Did I say all of that out loud?_

A murmur passing through the crowds near the dance floor has us all turning to look. The Inquisitor is apparently dancing with the Dutchess and everyone is all atwitter over it. I roll my eyes and have another sandwich.

Cullen, Cassandra, Solas, and I chat for a while. The champagne has my head feeling pleasantly muzzy, and time seems to pass quickly, because Aila comes to collect Solas and Cassandra soon enough. Cullen and I keep up a lazy conversation after they leave. We're both a bit tipsy at this point.

Josephine and Leliana wander over at different times to talk with us. I tell Leliana the panties she forced upon me are the root of all evil. She just laughs. _Leliana probably doesn't get wedgies._ Then it's just Cullen and I once again.

"I'm going to go find some water," I tell him and he nods. I wander away from the table and through the crowds. As I walk, something begins niggling in the back of my mind. I listen to my instincts this time and start sifting through my memories of the ball.

_So I know Florianne is the culprit, but how? Hmm… Aila has been exploring the palace this whole time. She already took her companions with her to deal with… something. What's the first thing?_ I run through the different possible areas a palace can have, hoping one of them sticks out. _Servants' quarters? Possibly. Ah! That's where she would have met Briala. So where have they gone off to this time…?_ I run through the list again. _Where the fancy people sleep? That sounds right… What happens there?_ I wrack my brain, eyes squeezed shut. _Oh… Oh fuck!_

My eyes fly open and I look around, feeling slightly panicked. I see Josephine chatting with someone else and hurry toward her. "Josephine, may I speak with you?"

"Oh, Josie! Who is this?" the woman with Josephine asks.

"Pardon us for a moment, Yvette," Josephine replies and guides me a short distance away. "What is it, Lady Rhynn?"

"Which way is the place where the royals sleep?"

Josephine looks really confused. "Do you mean the Royal Wing?"

"Yes!" I exclaim quietly. "That!"

"Out the doors and that way," she points, "but why – "

"Aila has walked into a trap. I need to get there quickly," I interrupt.

Josephine's eyes widen. "Oh my! I'll go inform Leliana." We go our separate ways.

I stride quickly toward the doors leading to the Royal Wing, my head feeling much clearer. I glance around to make sure no one is watching and slip through. I look down at my attire in consternation. _I can't fight in this!_ I begin digging under the bottom of the bodice, attempting to feel where the skirts are attached. I find the hook for the top layer and release it, letting the skirt fall to the floor. I do the same for the next two layers. The hoop skirt proves a bit more difficult, however. It's attached to the corset in multiple places that I can't quite reach.

"Fuck it," I unsheathe the knife strapped to my thigh and start cutting the item from my body. I kick the pile of skirts into a corner and put my knife away. My boots are the next to get removed and tossed aside, followed by the leather mask, leaving me in only leggings and the stiff bodice. I also leave the shoulder thing on, hoping it might provide me with a bit of protection.

That done, I take off running, not quite sure where to go. I race down a long corridor and try to take a sharp right, but the leggings cause me to slide on the polished floors and crash into a wall. "Son of a bitch!" I grab my knife again and cut a hole in the foot of the leggings, tearing it wider and rolling the material quickly up my leg. I repeat this for the other foot, sheathe my knife, and keep running.

The corset is making it hard to breathe and is pinching my sides painfully, but I ignore it and keep going. I start checking doors that look even slightly promising. I open a particularly large door thinking it might lead to another hallway, see two people having sex on a bed, and promptly shut it again. "Nope."

After about ten minutes of searching, I finally hear the sounds of fighting and force my legs to move even faster, busting in through the doors with my knife drawn. Solas is the one closest to me, twirling his staff and flinging icy magic at a nearby demon. I haven't had the pleasure of actually see one of _those_ kinds yet and… _damn these things are creepy!_

Solas whips around, apparently having heard me barge in, and his eyes widen, "Rhynn…? What are you doing here?"

"Helping!" The demon is suddenly right behind him, ready to swing. Solas must see it in my face because he's already ducking by the time I yell, "Watch out!" He drops low and swings his staff blade around at the same time that I throw my knife. It's not one of my throwing knives, though, and it glances off the creature's head and careens into a corner. Solas straightens and summons a mass of stone from the Fade, smashing it into the demon.

He spins around, face tense, "You are not wearing armor. Leave this to us."

I glare. _'Leave this to us.' As if I'm a child that doesn't know how to fight._ "I don't need armor," I respond, already retrieving my knife and re-entering the fray. I hear him curse behind me.

I pick my next target and sneak up behind it, plunging my knife into what would be vital points on a person. It doesn't have as much effect on a demon.

"Move!" Cassandra bellows and I scurry out of the way as she swings her blade high and takes its head off. We nod at one another and move on. Aila is in the middle of the small interior courtyard, trying to disrupt the rift while avoiding blows from the demons swarming about.

As I finish taking down another creature, a bolt of electricity whizzes by my head and strikes something behind me. I turn around to see a demon fall to the ground less than two feet away. I look back to the source of the bolt and see Vivienne, already engaged in battle with another enemy.

"Thanks!" I call anyway. Aila looks like she might need some help, so I move to attack one of the demons nearest to her. Before I can reach it, though, a large, fiery creature pours out of the rift with a roar. It zeroes in on me and takes a swing. I jump back but the claws strike my chest. When I feel no pain, I realize the bodice deflected some of the blow. _Ha! Ship tits are good for something!_

I try to get in a good strike of my own, but my hand burns with the proximity. "Ow! Fuck!" The demon takes another swipe at me and my distraction allows it to slash through the skin of my bare arm. I cry out and stumble back, clutching my bleeding, burning arm. Cassandra places herself in front of me, distracting the creature and allowing me to retreat. Cassandra, along with Vivienne, Solas, and Aila, quickly finish off the demon, apparently the only one remaining. Even before it hits the ground, Aila is closing the rift. Once that is done, she hurries to assist a man tied to a post. I glance down at my arm and pull my hand away to inspect the damage, hissing as my fingers stick to the burnt skin.

"What was it you said about not requiring armor?" Solas mocks angrily, suddenly beside me.

I look away as I feel him start healing the gash. "I've done fine without it for years," I mutter bitterly.

I hear him sigh. "This is something we have done many times before, Rhynn," his voice is softer now. "You didn't need to ruin your dress."

"I didn't like it anyways," I remind him.

"I know."

I smile weakly and he continues healing my arm in silence. After finishing, Solas gently wipes some of the blood off of my arm and takes a step back. " _'Ma serannas_ ," I murmur.

" _Ara melava son'ganem,_ _"_ he replies softly and I blink stupidly at the ground. He leaves, returning to the rest of the group. I'm not sure what most of that meant, but I know it wasn't the typical 'you're welcome.'

I push my jumbled thoughts aside and walk toward Aila. "Do you know what you want to do about Florianne?" I ask.

She deliberates and then nods, "I want to bring her crimes to light before the entire court."

I smile, pleased, and the rest of the group wears similar expressions. Wearily, we make our way back to the ballroom. I collect my pile of things along the way and quickly slip the shoes back on. As soon as we enter, Cullen hurries over, looking relieved.

"Thank the Maker you're all right!" he exclaims, looking at Aila. He moves as if to embrace her, but stops himself quickly and blushes. "The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

"Wait here, Cullen," she replies. "I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess."

"What?" Cullen's face expresses his shock. "There's no time! The Empress will begin her speech any moment!" But Aila is already making her way towards Florianne, eyes cold and determined.

The rest of us get as close as we can to listen. Many of the party-goers nearest to us gasp at our less-than-presentable appearances. Except Vivienne. Impeccable as ever.

Aila pauses at the base of the stairs, looking up at Florianne's back. "We owe the court one more show, Your Grace."

The Duchess turns around slowly, "Inquisitor."

"The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us, Your Grace," Aila's smirk is audible. "Remember to smile." She begins ascending the stairs. "This is your party. You wouldn't want them to think you had lost control."

Florianne takes a few steps back and tries to play coy, "Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?"

"I seem to recall you saying, 'All I needed was to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike,'" Aila counters. The nobles gasp and mutter as she begins circling the Duchess. "When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance." Florianne turns around, keeping the Inquisitor within sight. Aila continues in a slightly mocking tone, coming up behind Florianne and leaning in, "It's so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary." The crowd gasps again and Gaspard, who is standing nearby with Briala, shakes his head in disappointment. "It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds…" Aila counts them off on her fingers, "all your enemies under one roof."

"This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?" the Duchess attempts to regain ground.

Celene finally speaks, "That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin."

Florianne looks to her brother in desperation, "Gaspard? You cannot believe this! You know I would never…" Gaspard shakes his head slightly, turns around, and leaves with Briala as two chevaliers descend the upper stairs. "Gaspard?" Florianne tries again, backing away.

Aila is outright glaring at the Duchess now, lip curled, "You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace. You're just the last to find out." More chevaliers approach as Florianne sinks to the floor, sobbing. One grabs her arm and hauls her up, leading her away. Aila looks up at Celene and begins ascending the upper stairs, "Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak privately. Elsewhere."

"Well done, Inquisitor," I hear Solas say softly to my left and I turn to look at him.

"I may dislike politics, but thatwas impressive," I admit.

Solas smiles at me. "Would you care for some fresh air after all this political nonsense?" he teases.

I nod, arms still full of my discarded clothing, and he leads us to an empty balcony. I toss my pile of skirts on the ground and finally do what I've been longing to for hours: fix my underwear. _Ah, sweet relief!_

With smalls no longer wedged between my ass cheeks, I walk over to the railing and lean against it. The night air is cool against my clammy skin. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The balls of my feet give a painful twinge and I glare down at my boots. The glare turns into a slightly demented smile as I bend down and remove the offending shoes. I hold them up, glancing thoughtfully over the edge of the balcony.

"What are you doing?" Solas asks, coming closer. Taking one boot in my hand, I draw my arm back and throw it as far as I can. I hear the rustle of bushes and grin. _So satisfying._

Solas laughs, "Really, Rhynn?"

"Yes, really!" I chuck the other boot over the balcony with just as much vigor, but instead of leaves rustling, I hear a thunkand a shout of pain.

"Hey! Who threw that?!"

My eyes widen in realization. "Oh shit!" I spin around and sit behind one of the wider parts of the railing, stifling my laughter with a hand pressed to my lips. I notice Solas is still standing, looking out into the night with a smirk on his face. "Solas! Sit down!" I hiss.

He ignores me and raises a hand, waving at whoever it was that I hit with my shoe. "My apologies!" he shouts and I stare up at him in horror.

"Oh my God!" I whisper loudly. "What are you doing?! Get down!" I tug on his pant leg, hysterical laughter bubbling in my chest.

"We are all _quite_ intoxicated up here!" he continues, still ignoring me. I hear grumbling coming from below and Solas finally sinks down beside me, still smirking.

"I can't believe you just did that!" I exclaim, staring at him incredulously.

He cocks an eyebrow, "Me? You're the one that threw your shoe at some unfortunate, unsuspecting passerby!"

We hold eye contact for a heartbeat before dissolving into laughter. I cackle until my eyes water and I have to wipe away the moisture. As our mirth slowly subsides, Solas glances down at his feet.

"You know, I truly detest shoes." He reaches down and starts removing them. Then he stands up, drops them over the railing, and watches gleefully as they plummet to the ground. And now we're both barefoot on a balcony at the Winter Palace. I chuckle again and Solas smiles down at me.

The noise coming from inside increases suddenly and we both look toward the door in curiosity. Solas pushes off from the railing, padding over and peeking inside.

"It seems the Inquisitor was able to form a three-way truce," he informs me, looking pleased.

"Good job, Aila," I murmur, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. The sound of bare feet against stone and the weight of eyes on my skin has me opening them again. Solas is watching me with a soft expression, but his body language hints at a slight nervousness. I tilt my head in question.

"Dance with me?" he holds out a hand in invitation, a small smile playing at his soft lips.

I snort out a laugh and his smile falls slightly. I hurry to explain. "I don't know how to dance with someone else," I admit.

"But you know how to dance alone?" he grins, eyes twinkling. "You'll have to demonstrate sometime."

My thoughts stutter and trip over one another. I picture myself dancing sensuously while Solas lounges in a chair, watching with dark eyes. A blush stains my cheeks and I giggle. _Giggle! What the fuck!_

"You'll be fine," Solas assures. "Just follow my lead."

I sigh and roll my eyes jokingly, "Fine…" I stand up and take his hand. "But you're going to regret this," I warn with a grin.

"I doubt that," he murmurs, pulling me in close. His form is solid and warm and I suddenly wish that I didn't have this ridiculous bodice on, so that I could feel our chests pressed together. An arm wraps around my waist and his scent washes over me, a mixture of dark forest, old books, and danger.

"Alright, but first let's get rid of this ridiculous thing," I snatch the weird covering from his head and toss it aside.

"I thought it made me look rather dashing," he jokes and I snort.

Soft music drifts out through the open door and he begins moving us slowly around the balcony. It seems to be going well at first, but after a few minutes of me stepping on his toes, he halts our movement, laughing.

"I've watched you kill with the grace of a predator," he begins.

"Takes one to know one," I interrupt, biting my lip to keep a smile at bay.

He just raises an eyebrow at me and continues, "But a simple waltz is beyond you."

I affect a supercilious air, "Well, I can't be perfect all of the time."

"That's a matter for some debate," he mutters. _What?_ "Just one more thing I need to teach you, I suppose," he feigns exhaustion.

"You're going to teach me to dance?" I ask disbelievingly and he nods.

We spend an immeasurable amount of time out there dancing, barefoot and spattered with dried blood. He's patient with me, going over the steps until I get them right. It hits me, as we laugh over a particularly clumsy misstep of mine, that I'm _happy_. Really, truly happy. Still wearing a corset and stuck at a masquerade ball, this ridiculous, ancient, elven maybe-god is making me feel lighter than I have felt in ten years. _God help me…_

He twirls me out, then draws me back in, and I collide with his chest a little harder than intended.

"Sorry!" I apologize as the front of my bodice digs into his ribcage. "This thing is kind of…" We're really quite close, his face only inches from mine. "…deadly." His gaze is intense as it moves over my face and I bite my lower lip. His eyes dart there and he reaches up, tugs it free with his thumb. I let out a shuddering breath and we both lean in, lips nearly touching.

"Hey you two, we're getting ready to leave!" Aila calls from the doorway and I jump back, eyes averted and face flaming. "Oh…" Aila seems to realize what she walked in on. "I'm sorry, I… ah… sorry," she quickly leaves and I chance a peek at Solas from the corner of my eye.

He's looking rather frustrated, lips pressed into thin lines. "We should not keep them waiting," he sighs.

"No, probably not," I reluctantly agree and go grab my pile of clothing from the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry!
> 
> 'Ma serannas: My thanks
> 
> Ara melava son'ganem: My time is well-spent (spoken to close friends, family, or lovers)
> 
> By the way, these translations are taken from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language (so handy!)


	19. What have I done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but hopefully the content makes up for that considering it creeps a bit closer to earning its rating towards the end. Thanks for all the support and enjoy! …hopefully… Ugh, I'm so nervous about posting this chapter lol. It was being really difficult.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Back in my room at the Orlesian estate, I scrub the make-up off my face and stare at my naked, blemished body in the large mirror hanging on the wall. Droplets of water splash onto my chest and I wipe them away absentmindedly.

_We almost kissed… Or was it just wishful thinking on my part?_

**_Probably._ **

_I don't understand… He's not supposed to be interested in humans! I am very much human! He must have just been caught up in the moment, got carried away._

**_What does it matter? Where do you see this going, exactly? You can't stay._ **

_I don't see anything going anywhere! I don't even know what's going on!_

**_Don't be a fool. End this before it goes too far._ **

_What is there to end?_

**_You shouldn't even be friends._ **

_That's it, then? Alone for the rest of my life?_

**_Yes._ **

I blow out the candles and trudge into the bedroom, putting on a large t-shirt and crawling under the covers. I lay on my back, staring at the ornate ceiling.

When I arrived here in Thedas, I never intended to make friends with anyone. I was just going to keep to myself as much as possible until it came time to leave again. _That plan obviously worked so well._ I sigh and drape an arm over my eyes. I know the voice is right… My time here is limited and forming connections will only make my inevitable departure that much more painful. I let myself build a life here and that was a mistake. Deluding myself into thinking romance is even an option was a greater one. Despite knowing this, I can't help this aching desire to be closer to Solas. I wanted so badly to press our lips together and melt into him on that balcony. More terrifying than my physical want is the urge to tell him _everything._ My hopes, however few, and my fears, however many. Because I know he'd listen and understand. I want to confess the things I've done and the people I've hurt. To show him my journal and tell him about my friends… my family. But I can't. I don't think I can cease all interaction with him, but I can't allow myself to grow any closer.

Tears burn in my eyes and I blink them away angrily. I hate crying.

_Pathetic._

**_Pathetic._ **

I roll onto my side and, despite the ordeals of the day, it takes me hours to fall asleep.

* * *

 

Green mist swirls into familiar shapes and I'm back at the Winter Palace. I walk slowly, winding through the crowds. It takes me longer than it should to realize every single person around is an elf. _Halamshiral, then, when the elves still controlled the Dales. Solas must already be here._

I wander until I find him, sitting on a bench and looking on with a bittersweet expression. He notices me and nods, so I return the gesture and sit beside him. Neither of us talks, but that's okay. I am still horribly conflicted and perhaps there's much that should be said, but the silence is comfortable and I'm good at pretending everything is all right.

* * *

 

Life at Skyhold proceeds as normal. Or as normal as possible, given the circumstances. Solas and I don't talk as often as we did prior to Halamshiral. This is my own doing, determined to stay the course I set for myself after the balcony incident. I concentrate on my patients and teaching, ignoring the longing I feel for a simple conversation with the complicated elf. Many times, I catch myself thinking that I should go ask Solas' opinion on some matter or another. I miss our discussions, how his eyes light up with excitement when the topic is something he's passionate about. I even miss the slightly condescending tone he tends to adopt when telling me something he thinks I already ought to know. _This is ridiculous._ I'm _ridiculous._

It's also ridiculous how little time it takes for Varric to seek me out, accosting me like a bloodhound on the trail of new gossip. He finds me during one of my meal breaks, setting a mug of ale in front of me and sitting down. _Bribing me with alcohol, Varric?_

"Let me just start by saying how much I enjoyed hearing of your half-naked jaunt through the halls of the Winter Palace," he smirks, feet propped up on the table.

I snort out a half-laugh. "I was fully covered!"

"Not the way I heard it," he takes a sip of his own drink and grins. "I think the best version has you fighting off three demons at once, wearing only your smalls, and Chuckles fainting dead away at the sight." My expression falls and his gaze sharpens. "Speaking of which, what's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

He gives me a skeptical look. "Doesn't look like nothing. You two were practically attached at the hip before the ball. Now, you hardly ever speak and the sexual frustration rolling off both of you is nearly tangible."

I drop my head into my hand and use the other to pick at an invisible spot on the table. "It sounds like you already know what happened."

"Maybe, but I want to hear it straight from the source," he waves a hand in my direction.

"I don't want to talk about it, Varric," I respond sharply, not looking at him.

I hear his feet drop back to the ground and then silence. "Fair enough," he says nonchalantly and leaves. I chug the remaining ale in my mug.

* * *

 

I'm finally able to get the name of a clan from Ghilani, with Cole's help of course. I don't wait to bring the information to Josephine, entering her office to find her sitting behind the desk, just as I'd hoped.

"Josephine, I have the name of Ghillie's clan for you," I begin without preamble.

Her head snaps up from the paperwork spread out on the desk, eyebrows raised in surprise and a small smile playing at her lips. "That's wonderful news! What is it?" I give her the name and she scribbles it down. "I'll get right on this," she tells me. "But I'm afraid it won't be a quick endeavor. Tracking down a specific Dalish clan is no easy feat."

I nod, "I understand."

She looks troubled. "Have you considered the possibility the clan may not want the child back?" she asks softly.

"Yes, but we can cross that bridge when the time comes."

"Agreed. I hope, for his sake, that that is not the case. The poor child has been through enough," she shakes her head sadly.

I look down at my feet, "Yeah… he's a good kid."

* * *

 

It's been two weeks since the ball. Solas hasn't visited me in the Fade at all during that time and it seems tonight is no different. I glare down at the pebble in my hand, attempting to make it change shape and trying to think of nothing else. Suddenly, the dirt beneath my feet begins morphing into green meadow grass and my head snaps up. I can feel his presence behind me even before he speaks.

"What is it that I've done to alienate you, _'ma falon_?" His voice is soft and sorrowful.

"Nothing," I whisper.

He chuckles bitterly. "Nothing? You refuse to even look at me anymore. And when I attempt to initiate conversation, you feign engagement in some other task." I only sigh wearily and hug my arms around my torso. I hear him pad closer and he circles around, kneeling before me.

"Is this because…" he pauses, as if unsure. "I apologize if my advances were unwelcome," he continues formally. _Advances…? I didn't just imagine it?_ I watch his face intently now. "That was never my intention. You are unlike anyone I've ever known and I…" he averts his gaze, "but you are, first and foremost, my friend and I've missed our talks." He looks back up, expression unreadable. "What might I do to make things right?"

 _Oh, Solas… damn it._ I reach out and skim my fingertips over his sharp cheekbone. His eyes widen, searching mine, as he leans into the touch slightly. "You have done nothing wrong, Solas," I tell him softly, "This one's all on me." I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. **_What are you doing?_** "I've been alone for a very long time. I have… a rule for myself: never get too attached. You're the first friend I've had in many years," I clear my throat, struggling for words. "I can't stay. You know that." He nods and my brow furrows. "Then why…?"

"I… have obligations of my own, roads I must eventually travel alone. I tried to deny my attraction to you at first," he frowns and my heart does something ridiculously cliché at his words. "But the more I became acquainted with you, the more I found it impossible to lie to myself any longer."

"I thought you weren't attracted to humans," I interrupt and Solas gives me a slightly strange look, possibly wondering where I acquired such knowledge.

"I struggled with that for some time, yes, unable to understand how I could feel this way for a _quickling_ ," he gives a small, wry smile. "You are intelligent, witty, and surprising, however, and such things were soon forgotten in the wake of my fascination." _Oh God, don't say that to me…_ "Despite my obligations to the People and your inability to remain here, I thought, perhaps, we might find solace in one another for a short while." He watches intently for a reaction.

I squeeze my eyes shut, torn. The scenario he paints is so very, very tempting, but I have many doubts. I try to think, but the weight of his presence makes my thoughts spin in dizzying circles. I open my eyes with a sigh. **_What the fuck are you doing?_**

"Your advances… were not unwelcome," I whisper and his full lips part. He reaches up hesitantly and traces my eyebrow with a finger. That finger trails down over the bridge of my nose and across my bottom lip. My tongue darts out, unthinkingly, to wet my chapped lips. The tip flicks against the pad of his finger and I feel his hand tremble slightly. _He's restraining himself_. The realization sends a pulse of heat to my core and my eyelids flutter.

I drag my tongue across his finger again, deliberately this time. **_Stop this!_** A quiet groan slips from those sensuous lips and I'm lost. We move at the same time and finally, _finally_ our mouths meet. The first kiss is soft, a hesitant press of the lips. We both draw back by a fraction of an inch, eyes locked, before he wraps his arms around my waist and draws me down to kneel with him.

The next kiss is desperate and passionate. Solas runs one hand up my back to tangle in my short hair, pulling me tightly to his chest with the other. _Oh, yes…_ I cup his jaw with both hands and press our mouths together hard. He begins moving his and I follow suit, picking up momentum. Nudging my lips apart, he draws the lower one between his teeth and tugs, then sucks lightly to ease the sting. My eyes roll back and a breathy moan escapes.

We kiss for a few more moments before I have to pull back, gasping for air. Wasting no time, I dart in and press wet, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. Solas draws in a quick breath, tilting his head to allow for better access. I suck on the spot just behind his jaw and below his ear, then scrape my teeth gently over the skin of his neck. His body jerks and he grasps my side with the hand not tangled in my hair, fingers digging in.

I chuckle breathlessly, feeling powerful. Not to be outdone, the Dread Wolf yanks on my hair, arching my head back and reclaiming my lips. My fingers scrabble for purchase in the fabric of his tunic. He kisses me until my head spins from lack of oxygen, tongue delving in and tangling eagerly with my own. Finally, he pulls back a bit, easing his grip and pressing our foreheads together. We're both panting, breaths mingling in the small space between. I slowly open my eyes to find him already watching me. He strokes my cheek, eyes fond, and starts to say something, but the scene fades and I suddenly find myself staring at the wall of my room, weak sunlight streaming between the cracks.

 _Oh God, what have I done?_ I cover my face with both hands, confused, conflicted, and so terribly turned on. The ache between my thighs is insistent, prompting me to roll onto my back and snake a hand into my underwear. The first touch of fingers to wet heat has me gasping. I rub slow circles that increase in tempo as images from the Fade flash behind my eyes. Lips, eyes, tongue, teeth, hands… all so much better than anything I had imagined. I think about his sounds and reactions and come quickly, biting my hand to stifle the cry that escapes. _What have I done…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They've finally kissed! Woo! But trust me, sunshine and rainbows are not in the forecast for these two just yet.
> 
> Two quick questions: (1) Any ideas for Varric's nickname for Rhynn? (2) If you were in Rhynn's situation, what Earth songs would you still remember ten years later? It wouldn't have to be the full song that's remembered.


	20. Here and Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the comments and answers to my questions! This chapter is a bit of a turning point for Rhynn. Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine.

"And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am"

-Iris by Goo Goo Dolls

I lay in bed for some time after waking, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. _Solas and I kissed. And it was wonderful. But what now?_ I think about the possibility of seeing him today, fully awake, and my skin gets clammy. _What will he expect?_ In a daze, I get dressed and climb down the ladder. I wander to the clinic and fall into routine, pushing all other thoughts to the back of my mind. I have a lesson on bones to give today and I need to get things ready for that. I pull out the diagrams and begin composing the lesson in my head.

"Lips so soft… waited so long for it. Felt so right but what will he want? What do I want? I don't know, I don't know…What do I _do_?"

I turn around to find Cole staring at me and rattling off my innermost thoughts. "Cole, please…" I plead softly.

His stream of words cuts off and he tilts his head. "He's worried too." I wrap an arm around my torso. _Not now, Cole, please, not now._ "I'll go somewhere else today," he says quietly and then he's gone. I sit down on an empty cot for a few moments, gaze vacant, before getting back to work.

Lesson time rolls around soon enough… too soon. I'm setting up the diagrams when I see Solas descending the stairs into the courtyard. He makes eye contact and smiles knowingly. _Fuck._ He sits on one of the benches brought out for these times and watches me. I can feel his eyes follow as I move about and I roll my shoulders to relieve the tension.

_Okay, calm down… just get through the lesson._ I try to concentrate on teaching, but there are large chunks of time where I can't remember what words came out of my mouth. Nearly all I can think about is what Solas plans to do after I finish. My dread makes time speed up and, before I know it, I'm rolling up my diagrams and stowing them away.

"Rhynn."

I nearly jump out of my skin, whipping around with wide eyes, one diagram still clutched to my chest.

Solas' eyebrows crease. "Are you all right?"

I force a neutral expression. "Yeah… yeah, you just startled me is all," I turn back around and put the last piece of parchment away. I must linger too long because he repeats my name and I face him slowly. He looks slightly worried, but also a bit excited. My arms are limp at my sides and he runs his fingertips down one of them and clasps my hand. He lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss to the knuckles. My heart palpitates wildly but I don't react outwardly.

"Come with me?" he asks hopefully, still holding my hand. "I found an interesting passage I wanted to share with you."

**_Tell him no._ **

"Okay," I agree quietly and let him lead me by the hand. _Yep. Hand-holding. That's happening._ I feel like I'm still asleep.

**_You're weak._ **

Solas takes us back to the rotunda and drops my hand to grab a large, crumbling tome, carefully turning to a specific page. He starts reading it to me and I wander over to the couch and sit down. _This is okay… normal._

"Well, perhaps if the circumstances were just right, that may be true, but otherwise it's complete nonsense," I remark after he finishes.

"Agreed," he rubs his chin in thought. "Perhaps if…" he begins flipping through the book again. We continue debating the merits of the text for some time. He migrates from his desk to the couch, sitting beside me.

After a while, I rub my thighs and stand up, suddenly realizing how long we've been chatting. "I should probably get back to work." I start walking toward the door when he grabs my hand once again and I'm reminded of things I'd let myself forget during our talk.

Solas circles around to face me and cups my cheek gently. "Rhynn," he whispers and kisses me.

**_Stop this! Now!_ **

_I don't know if…_

The kiss intensifies, Solas cupping my neck with one hand and my head with the other. I'm not sure if I kiss him back or not, but I assume so.

**_You can't let this go on! It'll only end in pain!_ **

_But…_

I can't think! His lips, his scent, his very presence makes it impossible. My head is filled with wool and the voice is screaming at me incessantly.

**_You hurt everyone you get close to!_ **

Image after image, scrolling behind my closed eyes. Every friend I've ever dared make since this all began, smiling and laughing, welcoming me with open arms. Then dead… burned or cut down or slowly infected. My existence is a poison, spoiling those I touch and I'm alone again. But alone is better.

**_If anyone could manage to get an elven god killed, it would be you. He's not even at his full power… it could happen so easily._ **

The faces of my dead friends are superimposed with Solas'. Burning alive, screaming for help… bleeding out on the ground… and me, running away. Always running away. _No!_

"NO!" I cry out, shoving him away from me. I only get a glimpse of the confusion on his face, the hurt, before I'm sprinting out of the rotunda. I run down the stairs and through the courtyard, ignoring the voices calling after me. I run under the portcullis and across the long bridge. I don't stop until Skyhold is a good distance behind me, finally falling to my knees in the snow, nails digging into the frozen ground.

"Noooo…" I moan, head bent, tears streaming down my face. I shout in anger, at myself, at the universe. I grab fistfuls of earth and snow and hurl them at a nearby tree, screaming in frustration. Then I curl in on myself, wrapping my arms around my knees in an attempt to shut out reality. But it's too quiet here and I feel something ugly creeping up inside of me.

_Distraction… I need a distraction…_

I grab a bit of snow in both hands and pack it into a ball, staring at it as the cold burns my skin. I get to my knees and set it down, rolling it forward. The ball picks up more snow, growing larger. I keep rolling, eventually standing up to continue. When the ball is up to my knees, I make another, smaller this time, and set it on top. Then another. I grab some pebbles, a couple sticks… every snowman needs arms and a smile. I press the last rock into its icy face and sit down beside my creation. We gaze out on the stillness together until I hear the crunching of feet approaching.

"There you are," the voice surprises me.

"Hey, Rorin," I don't look at him.

"I saw you tear through Skyhold…" he pauses. "What's that?" I look back briefly to see him pointing to the snowman. He hobbles around, examining it curiously.

"This here is Ser Frosty," I joke lamely.

Rorin sweeps into a dramatic bow, made somewhat clumsy by his leg. "A pleasure to meet you, my good man." I give a weak smile at that and he plops down on the ground next to me. He just sits there quietly, looking at the scenery with me.

Without permission, words begin spilling out of my mouth. "I'm sorry I never answered your question…"

"What question?" he looks genuinely confused.

"You asked where I was from and I didn't tell you," his eyes light up in understanding and he starts shaking his head but I keep going. "I'm… not from this world, Rorin. I'm from a place called Earth. I don't even know where it is in comparison to here but… yeah. It's really far away. I left against my will about ten years ago and every so often, I get placed on a new world. The only warning I get is a buzzing in my head a few days prior." Rorin's brow is creased. "I… I let myself grow close to people on my first two worlds… they all ended up dead because of me. I haven't allowed myself to do that since. Not until here…"

"You're talking about that bald elf you're always with now, aren't you?" he asks softly, hesitantly.

"Him, yes," I admit, "but he's not the only one. I've grown attached to so many people here. You, Cole, Ghillie, Varric… even the damned grumpy lumberjack!"

"Who…?"

I just shake my head and stare at my knees. "The point is," I continue, "I have a tendency to get people killed. And since I can't stay, what's the point of having _any_ kind of relationship with _anyone_? It'll only hurt both of us in the end. Wouldn't it be better to avoid it altogether?"

Rorin stares at me, contemplative. "Does the elf know this?"

"That I travel through space and time? Yes," I reply dryly.

"What about the other stuff you told me? About what happened to your friends?" he presses gently.

I frown, "No… I haven't told him."

"Maybe you should," he suggests. "Tell him and let him decide. And as to whether it would be better to avoid relationships… if he already knows you can't stay and is still interested…" he shrugs. "It's your call."

We lapse into silence again and I mull over Rorin's words. "You're strangely good at giving advice, soldier," I tease.

"Maybe it's all that time I spend teaching new recruits who don't know one end of an arrow from the other," he counters. "You still need to come by so I can give you some pointers."

I sigh and flop back into the snow. _My ass is already soaked so whatever._ "I know… and thanks," I say the last part quietly.

"No problem. Now," he slaps a thigh and starts pushing himself upright, "it's ridiculously cold out here. I'm going to head back and you should, too."

I give a mock salute, still sprawled on the ground, "Sir, yes sir!"

He grins and shakes his head, limping off.

_He makes a good point…_

**_No he doesn't._ **

_You! You're going to shut the fuck up while I think! Capiche?_

The voice goes blissfully silent and I contemplate my predicament further. _It isn't fair, the way I'm treating Solas. Welcoming his advances one second, then running away the next. I need to decide, here and now._ I sit up again. The snow really is quite cold. _I could tell him some of it… let him know I'm probably bad luck or something. If he's truly interested in me, he deserves to know… but is this what I want? Can I handle something like a relationship? I'd probably be horrible at it… but maybe…_ I scrub my hands over my face and sigh. _I want him. God help me, but I do. And… he knows I can't stay. He can't either. But maybe… for just a little while... we can provide some small comfort to one another. Would that really be so bad?_ I finally stand up and brush off my pants. I can't tell him everything. Not yet. But I know what I _can_ do. I head back to Skyhold, feeling a bit more stable than when I left.

I go straight to the rotunda and open the inner door slowly, filled with trepidation and embarrassment. It's empty.

"Oh…" I sigh, face falling further.

"Your lover left right after you." The voice comes from my left and I turn my head to find Dorian leaning casually against the wall. "Quite the spectacle you made, shouting and running out of here as you did." I blush, looking at the ground.

"Yeah, well…" I trail off, unsure of what to say.

"You know, I've noticed something rather interesting," he continues as if I didn't speak. "With the rest of us, Solas is reserved nearly to the point of stodginess. Sure, he'll make a quip or two every now and then, but I could count the number of times he's laughed on one hand. With you, though, he's much more relaxed. I wonder why that is…" Dorian raises a perfect eyebrow.

_He doesn't have to lie to me._

"Anyway, I do believe the dwarf said something about him heading for the dungeon," Dorian waves a hand nonchalantly and climbs up the stairs to the library. I stay rooted in place, blinking at the floor. _That was weird._ I turn around and head back out to the upper courtyard, then take a right into the prison area.

I go down the steps and open another door and freeze. "Holy shit!" I mutter, staring at the giant hole in the floor. _That's a long drop…_ I watch the water rush under the damaged floor and over the cliff. My gaze is drawn to a figure sitting on the edge of the destroyed floor, legs dangling. Solas casts a blank look in my direction then focuses back on the water.

"That can't be safe to sit out on…" I start, but trail off when his back stiffens.

"What is it that you want, Rhynn?" his voice is clipped and sharp.

I glance down at my hands, "I just wanted to talk – "

"No," he interrupts. "Do you want me or don't you? I will not be toyed with while you flit about indecisively."

I flinch and hang my head, "I know." I walk a bit closer, "To answer your question, I do want to give… us a try." I'm close enough now that I can see his face twitch, as if not sure what expression it wants to form. "But there are some things you need to know about me first… things that may explain my behavior…" Solas stands and faces me, eyebrow raised expectantly. I swallow nervously and hold out my hand, palm up. "Come with me?" I repeat his words from earlier. "There's something I want to show you." He hesitates, his eyes dropping to my outstretched arm, then places his warm hand in mine. I give it a squeeze and he returns it.

I lead us to my room and I can practically feel the confusion and curiosity emanating from him. We climb the ladder and I gesture toward my bed, "Make yourself comfortable." He sits, one leg tucked under himself. I shuffle through my bag and pull out my journal, then join him. His eyes are on the leather-bound book, a small wrinkle appearing between his thin brows.

I take a deep breath and begin, "This is my journal. I typically record useful information in it about each world; what plants are safe to eat, what areas to watch out for, that sort of thing." I pause, running a finger along the spine. "But… I also have sketches of… all the people who have held a special place in my life." I hand the journal to him and he blinks at it, thumb caressing the worn cover.

" _'Ma falon_ ," he looks up at me, "this is not necessary." He tries to give the book back and I stop him.

"I need to do this," I say softly. He nods and pulls the journal back onto his lap. "Go ahead," I urge, "open it." He carefully lifts the cover and flips to the first page. The warped image of an alien woman stares up at us from the paper.

"That's Til," I tell him. "My life on Earth was soft, easy. When my first jump happened, I was terrified and I didn't know how to take care of myself without the conveniences of my home world. There was a rather tyrannical group in power on this first planet and they tried to capture me. I ran, but I was fatally injured in the process. Til is the one who found me." Solas traces a finger over the old sketch and turns the page. "Her village took me in and healed me, taught me how to hunt, how to determine what's safe for consumption, how to defend myself. I would have died long ago if it weren't for them." My breath hitches, knowing what I have to tell him next. "The people in power finally found me, came after me. The village guards saw them coming and everyone gathered in the communal building for safety. Except me. Til helped me pack up my things and sneak away into the woods. I… didn't go right away." I look down at my lap and take another steadying breath. "The people hunting me… they barred my friends in that building and set it on fire. They burned alive, Solas. I tried to help, but the other ones grabbed me. The only reason I got away was because Til wasn't in the building. She killed the men and told me to run. I did… I left them there to die." I can feel Solas watching me, but I can't make eye contact. I hear the rustle of paper as he turns the page again. "I tried to remember all their faces… to record them somehow, but I don't think I got them all…"

He turns the page again, and again, and again. Face after face, a whole village. "It sounds as if there was nothing you could have done," he finally speaks.

"Please… don't," I plead in a pained whisper. His lips thin but he says nothing more.

He finally reaches the drawings of L'rij and her mother. "That's Ameant and her daughter L'rij," I explain. L'rij is giving one of her sharp-toothed grins in the sketch. "They're the ones that took me in on my second world. L'rij was… the last person I played my violin for." His face morphs into understanding. "Our biology was similar, but not enough. Something that exists peacefully within my own body became a sickness in them. They were both slowly dying when I got pulled to a different world." Solas studies the drawings intently. There are newer ones, from a few years ago, when I was terrified of forgetting their faces.

He turns the page again and freezes at the sight of his own likeness. "Ah…" His face contorts with some emotion as he stares at the sketch. My face heats a little. The image conveys how I feel about him better than any speech I could have fumbled through.

"There's… more, but I…" I choke on the words, "I'm not ready yet." I squeeze my eyes shut and will away the panic welling up. I feel his hand cover my own and I realize they're clenched tightly. I just breathe in and out for a few moments, trying to relax. Eventually, I turn my hand over and he twines our fingers together.

"I am humbled by your trust, Rhynn," he murmurs and strokes my hand with his thumb. I open my eyes and look into his. They seem glassier than usual. "I know my compassion does nothing to ease the pain, but I am sorry for the trials you've endured all the same."

"Thank you," I whisper, almost inaudibly. "Like I said," I continue after a moment, "I want to try this with you… but I need your patience."

He nods solemnly, "It is yours, _lethal'lan_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you'll get a little bit of fluff before the shit hits the fan.
> 
> Lethal'lan: female kin


	21. Atoms, snack pouches, and patronuses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much all fluff and filler, but there were some things I wanted to take care of before Here Lies the Abyss.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is Bioware's.

I push through the doors to the rotunda, balancing a plate of food, a pitcher of water, and two cups. It's my lunch break so I figured I would visit Solas, considering he probably forgot to eat again. When I enter, he is bent over a book, deeply engrossed in the text.

"Hey, you," I set my things down on his desk and he glances up. "I come bearing sustenance," I announce somewhat dramatically.

Solas leans back in his chair, lips quirking upwards, "Ah, lovely. Just a moment, I want to finish this paragraph." He begins reading again and reaches absentmindedly for a cup sitting nearby, taking a sip and grimacing.

"Why do you insist on drinking that?" I ask, amused.

He continues to make a disgusted face at the beverage, "I think perhaps part of me hopes it will taste better the next time I try it."

I laugh and grab an apple from the tray, "You should try iced tea. It's much better."

He looks up at me in horror, "How is that _better_?"

"It just tastes better cold," I shrug, smirking at his reaction. "Especially if you make it nice and sweet, maybe add a bit of lemon." He still looks dubious and my smirk turns into a full grin, "Or not." I walk over to the couch and curl up against the arm, biting into my apple. "Is there any coffee here? You might like that. It's dark and bitter, just like you," I tease.

"Very clever," he deadpans, setting the cups on the tray and bringing both it and the pitcher over. He sits down close to me, places the tray on the cushion beside him, and pours us both a glass of water.

He hands me one. " _'Ma serannas_."

" _Da'rahn_ ," he replies as I take a sip and set it on the floor.

"Coffee can actually taste _really_ good if it's made right," I continue, reaching across him and grabbing a hunk of bread. I break off a piece and pop it into my mouth. "God, I miss caramel macchiatos…" I stare longingly into the middle distance.

"What are those?" he asks, confusion wrinkling his brow.

"Coffee with steamed milk and caramel sauce," I close my eyes and hum in remembrance of the delicious taste. "I used to be such a caramel whore."

He splutters into his drink a little, " _Pardon?_ "

"I _really_ love caramel."

"Ah…" he shakes his head and grabs some food of his own. It's quiet for a moment as we both eat. "Hawke and the Warden, Alistair, have returned," he comments, leaning back and munching on fruit.

"Yeah, I know, and Varric still hasn't introduced me to Hawke," I mutter bitterly and take another bite of my apple.

"I take it you've read the dwarf's book," he drapes an arm across the couch behind me.

I swallow and shake my head. "No, there's another book on Earth about the Champion," I correct.

Solas tilts his head curiously, "Just how many of these books are there? Is the entirety of Thedas' history spelled out for the perusal of your world's citizens?"

"Basically," I shrug. "The first story is about the group that ended the most recent blight. The second one is about the happenings in Kirkwall and the beginning of the mage rebellion. And the third is, of course, about the Inquisition. There are also a few other books that cover history and lore and whatnot."

"You essentially know all there is to know about this world, then," he remarks, expression unreadable.

"I can't remember most of it," I admit and discreetly scoot closer to him.

"It is disconcerting to realize that people I have never met know so much about my life…" he tells me softly after a minute.

"I'd imagine so." I suddenly smile mischievously. "So I shouldn't tell you that there are millions of earthlings that lust after you?" I wiggle my eyebrows.

He mutters something I can't quite hear and covers his face with a hand. After a second, though, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks. "Do you count yourself among them, _lethal'lan_?"

_Gulp._ "Um…" I blush and shove the apple into my mouth to avoid answering. Solas gives a sultry chuckle and starts playing with a strand of my hair. I don't remember the last time someone did that. It feels _really_ good. I close my eyes and focus on not making any noises.

"It truly is fascinating that the events of one world can be nothing but a series of books in another. How could that possibly be?" Solas muses aloud.

"I've been wondering that since I arrived," I chime in, eyes opening. "There's obviously a connection between my world and this one. Is it the only one, though? Does a story from _here_ exist elsewhere? Are there other stories from Earth that are like that as well?" I pause and frown at my lap. "I'm not sure I like that thought…"

Solas runs a fingertip along the shell of my ear and a small shiver runs down my spine, "All valid questions that we couldn't begin to answer at this point in time, unfortunately." He looks thoughtful. "Do you know how it is that you pass between worlds?"

I chuckle and shake my head, "My specialty is biology, not quantum mechanics, but it feels as if I just phase through the barrier between dimensions. If that's what it is…" I shrug. Solas is looking more than a bit confused. "Are you looking at me like that because of 'quantum mechanics'?" His lips quirk and he nods. "Quantum mechanics is the study of how things work at the smallest level," I explain.

"Is this the component you spoke of before?" he asks.

I remember our discussion after that one lesson, "No, this is even smaller." His eyes widen in interest so I decide to go on. "Everything is made up of these tiny things called atoms. Each atom is comprised of a nucleus with electrons that orbit it." Solas blinks at me, not quite understanding, so I hop up from the couch and drag him over to the desk. I grab a spare bit of parchment and his quill and draw an atom. "This is the nucleus," I point. "It's made up of protons, which are positively charged, and neutrons, which are neutral, as the name implies." I move my finger to the small particles outside the nucleus. "These are electrons. They're negatively charged."

"Positive and negative… what do you mean by that?" he moves in close, studying my drawing.

I realize I'm going to have to explain how charges work. "Have a seat," I instruct, gesturing to his chair. "This may take a while."

I spend the next couple of hours teaching Solas about atoms. He catches on quickly, asking many questions and listening raptly to my answers. I've started going over the elements when I remember that I was supposed to return to work.

"Oh shit!" I exclaim, standing up from where I'd been perched on the arm of his chair. "I should've been back at the clinic a long time ago!"

"I'm sure all is well," Solas soothes. "There are plenty of other healers on duty."

"I know, but…" I shrug. "I guess I just got carried away," I smile self-deprecatingly.

"I enjoy your enthusiasm," he smirks. I laugh nervously and rub my forearm. "I suppose we will have to continue this some other time."

"Yeah, I suppose so," I smile. I start to leave but pause, taking a deep breath and turning back around. I place a hand on the back of his chair and another on his cheek and lean in. Touching my lips lightly to his, I breathe in his scent before deepening the kiss slightly. Solas wraps his arms around me as our mouths move languidly together.

"About time!" The shout startles us and I pull back a few inches. "Varric owes me fifty silver!" Dorian proclaims proudly.

"A bet? Seriously?" I ask dryly.

"It would seem so," Solas replies, eyebrow raised.

I straighten, looking up to where Dorian is leaning over the second story railing. One of my hands lingers on Solas' shoulder. "Mind your own damn business, Pavus!" I scold playfully.

"When you're kissing like that in view of the whole library, you can't seriously expect me to remain quiet!" he grins charmingly.

"Yes, I can. Go back to posing against the shelves or whatever it is you do up there," I flap a hand at him.

Dorian scoffs. "I'll have you know I am in the middle of some very important research. It's not my fault if I always look like I'm posing." I roll my eyes good-humoredly and he finally turns away from the railing.

I look back at Solas. The corners of his eyes and mouth are crinkled in amusement. "I'll see you later," I tell him and smile softly. He inclines his head and I slip out the door.

                                                               

 

I clear my throat to announce my presence and Vivienne looks up from the book in her lap. She's perched on a fainting couch, dappled by the evening sun.

"Hi… I was just wondering if we could talk for a minute," I fidget nervously. _Damn, she's intimidating._

Vivienne sets her book aside, "Of course, my dear. Have a seat." She looks like a queen about to hold court.

I sit in one of the chairs across from her, hands restless. "I'm not sure how to say this so I'll jump right in. Your Duke is dying, yes?"

Her masks slips for just a moment before becoming flawless once more. "Another fact from your _book_ , I take it?" she remarks icily.

I ignore the question. "There's a potion you're trying to make, right? With… with… some kind of wyvern," I press two fingers to my temple, trying to remember.

"The heart of a snowy wyvern," she corrects.

"Yes," I nod. "It's not going to work. He's… going to die," I tell her softly.

She regards me for a moment. "What is your reason for telling me this?" she asks coldly.

"Is there…." I frown, "is there some way you could make it more potent or something…?" I twist my fingers together.

"Perhaps. I shall look into it," she turns her gaze to the windows and I know I'm dismissed.

                                                             

 

Having been summoned to the war room, I'm walking through Josephine's office to get there. I push through the next door and freeze.

_Oh my God that's Hawke! Okay, Rhynn, don't do anything embarrassing._

Varric spots me, "Hey, Torpin! Over here!" He waves me over. _Varric, why?_

I feel my eye twitch, but make my way over. "I shouldn't be surprised you found out what my last name is, but must you _use_ it?"

"Well, you know me, always looking to get under someone's skin," he leans against the wall behind him.

"Too true," Hawke chimes in and turns to me. "You must be the time-travelling healer Varric's been telling me about," he grins roguishly.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," I joke. "I don't think Varric is supposed to be going around telling other people that."

Hawke laughs, "That's never stopped him before. I'm Hawke, by the way." _Yeah, I know._

"Rhynn," I nod. "It's… really good to finally meet you!" I color a little at my words. _Oh, and can you sign my tits? Shit, girl, calm down._

Both Hawke and Varric grin, for different reasons I hope. "You, as well," Hawke replies. "We should probably get in there," he jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the war room door.

I curl my lip a little and sigh, "Are you ready to hear them argue for a few hours?"

"I brought snacks," Hawke whispers conspiratorially and I snort out a laugh. We enter the war room and I have another heart attack. Alistair is leaning over a map on the table, discussing something with the advisors. _Holy shit, nobody should have the right to be that attractive._ You _can sign the other taddy._

The meeting is, as I predicted, long and drawn out. Alistair and Hawke give their findings to the Inquisitor and the advisors. Then the latter four spend a good chunk of time discussing things. When it becomes clear they don't plan on wrapping things up anytime soon, Hawke opens a little pouch on his belt and shares his snacks with me. It's weird and surreal and I keep getting the urge to laugh my head off.

Finally, they turn to me. "What do you know about this, Lady Rhynn?" Cullen asks.

"Well, I know that the Wardens, even Clarel, can be swayed to our side." They look encouraged by this.

"Wait, wait!" Alistair interrupts excitedly. "Can you see the future?!"

My lips twist in amusement, "Uh, something like that."

"That's _awesome_! Okay, tell me," he holds up a hand and pauses dramatically. "Will Talynnia say yes when I ask her to marry me?"

"It doesn't quite work like that," I grin and chuckle. His face falls just a little in disappointment. "But she'd be a fool to say no." Alistair smiles and blushes a bit.

"Can we _please_ get back to the matter at hand?" Cullen interjects irritably.

"Apologies," Alistair mumbles.

"Um…" I continue, sifting through my memories, "Corypheus' dragon will show up at some point." They all frown in worry. "And then everyone will end up in the Fade somehow."

"In the Fade…? How do you mean?" Leliana questions.

"Physically," I reply and everyone starts talking at once.

"Hey, hey! Quiet!" Aila raises her voice over the din, then looks at me. "How does that happen?"

"I don't remember," I admit. "I'm sorry."

Aila sighs, "That's alright, Rhynn. Do you have any other advice?"

"Just… at least consider giving the Wardens a second chance. Their fears and desperation were used against them by Corypheus and his lackeys. It doesn't absolve them of all guilt, but…" I shrug. "If you speak reason, use evidence, they'll listen." Aila nods solemnly.

"One other thing, Lady Rhynn," Leliana speaks up. "We were wondering if you might lend us one of your weapons to study and possibly replicate."

My face goes expressionless and cold, "No."

"But – " she tries to argue.

"No," I growl. "And that's my final answer." I spin on my heel and march out of the war room, slamming the door behind me. I head back to the clinic and throw myself into the work in an attempt to calm down.

                                                           

 

"I thought we might try a different technique this time," Solas informs me. We're in the Fade and I'm trying to manipulate my surroundings again… without much luck.

"I'm all ears," I reply, frustrated.

"Perhaps if you think of a very powerful memory and try to project that instead, we may see results," he explains. A memory of Remus Lupin teaching Harry Potter how to cast a Patronus pops into my head and I fight not to laugh.

_Alright, Girl-Who-Lived, what's your happiest memory?_ I close my eyes and think back, to Earth, to my childhood. It's a beautiful day at the beach, pleasantly warm with a slight breeze. I can hear the crashing of waves, the rustling of dune grass, the calling of sea birds. There are towels spread out under a huge umbrella, held down at the corners with miscellanea. An olive-skinned man with dark hair lounges on one of them, smiling fondly at the children playing a few feet away. Both of them are brown from the summer sun, smattered with freckles, but the boy has a slightly darker complexion. It contrasts with his light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The girl, a few years older than the boy, has a wild black mane, tangled with sand and salt water and wind. They're building a sandcastle together, ruddy-faced from running to the ocean for water.

I slowly open my eyes… and it's all still there, right in front of me. I gasp, staring with wide eyes.

Solas is watching the scene raptly. "Well done, _lethal'lan_ ," he says softly.

I don't have the wherewithal to respond. My heart is beating against my ribcage and my lungs feel like they can't get enough air. I stagger closer to the children and fall to my knees. I'm shaking but I can't make it stop. "Mycah," I breathe, reaching out to the boy's face, but not touching for fear it will all disappear.

"Rhynn?" Solas sounds slightly concerned.

I can't answer, not yet. I look at the dark-haired man sitting nearby and the tears slip free, making crooked tracks down my cheeks, "Daddy..." I can hear Solas suck in a breath behind me. "Just… just give me a minute," I tell him.

"Of course."

I let the tears fall freely but remain quiet and don't turn around. I don't want Solas to see me like this. Eventually, there's nothing left to shed and I take a few deep breaths to regain my composure, scrubbing at my eyes and face. I stand and beckon him over and he moves to my side.

I point to the boy. "That's my little brother, Mycah. He'd be about seven years old here. Those looks of his made him quite popular with the ladies when he got older," I remark fondly, with gentle humor. "That's me, of course," I gesture to the older girl.

"Yes, I can see the resemblance now," Solas comments with a small smile, wrapping a comforting arm around my waist.

I turn and nod towards the man on the towel, "And that's my dad." I give a sad laugh when I notice his facial hair, "Oh God, I forgot he had that ridiculous goatee." _Oh Dad…_

"And your mother…?" he asks softly, hesitantly, as if unsure whether he should be bringing her up at all.

"She died when I was five," I explain.

" _Ir abelas."_

I shrug, "It's all right. I don't remember her much. Dad always talked about her, but yeah..." I look back at my family, studying their faces, rememorizing them. I give a genuine smile, "This is a happy memory, though. And it's good to see them again, even if this isn't truly them." Solas holds me to his side a bit tighter. "Thank you," I whisper to the spirits re-enacting this memory for me. They give no signs of recognition, but I hope they understand my gratitude nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma serannas: My thanks
> 
> Da'rahn: or De da'rahn; da'rahn is more casual; meaning: it was nothing
> 
> Lethal'lan: female kin
> 
> Ir abelas: I'm sorry
> 
> (translations taken from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen)


	22. How the fuck did I forget this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part one of Here Lies the Abyss. This chapter uses a lot of in-game dialogue, so not too exciting. Next chapter is when the fun starts.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age does not belong to me.

The Western Approach is desolate and hot. Despite it being nighttime, I am sweating beneath my armor. _Or maybe that's just nerves_. I finally had some real armor made and the extra protection is reassuring. I wipe the perspiration from my forehead and check on the new dagger at my hip. I've practiced with it some since we left Skyhold, but it still feels odd to use anything but my hunting knife. Said knife is, of course, strapped to my thigh and my throwing knives are secured to my back. I left the guns back at camp with the rest of my things, but I did bring one item I've been saving for some time. Carefully tucked away in a pouch on my belt is a small explosive; intuition tells me I might finally need to use it.

Watching the Inquisition troops march on Adamant, I feel Solas come stand beside me. "The Inquisitor informed me that we will soon find ourselves in the Fade," he starts, voice restrained.

I give a small smirk, "Don't get too excited."

He chuckles. "Far too late for that, I'm afraid," he jokes, some of that excitement bleeding into his voice.

I turn to look at him and trail my fingertips lightly over his forehead. "How's your sunburn?" I ask. Solas runs a hand over his bald head and winces. I look around to make sure no one is close enough to hear and pitch my voice lower. "No, Rhynn, I don't need a hat!" I mock. "I'm a god. Gods don't get sunburns!" Solas' eyes widen and he glances around as well, shushing me. "No one's listening," I reassure. "Plus, I could be calling you a sex god for all they know." _Well, that just slipped out_. I hope desperately that the darkness hides my blush.

"Oh?" Solas' lips twist into a mischievous smile and he steps closer.

I pretend to contemplate, tapping my chin with a finger, "Hmm… well, maybe not with a peeling scalp."

Solas laughs, shaking his head. "What did I do to deserve such cruelty from you, _asha_?" he asks with subtle drama.

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. "Did you just _'woman'_ me?" I ask incredulously.

Before he can answer, Aila approaches. "It's time to go," she informs us and our good humor evaporates. We both nod and fall in behind her, along with Cole, Blackwall, and Alistair.

The doors have just been breached by the time we arrive and I unsheathe my dagger as we enter the fortress. A handful of demons await, but between the six of us, they are quickly dispatched. A shout to fall back comes from the walls and any remaining Wardens flee further in.

"All right, Inquisitor," Cullen says from behind us and I turn to see him walking quickly in our direction. "You have your way in. Best make use of it." The sounds of battle rage around us. "We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"I'll be fine," Aila replies. "Just keep the men safe."

"We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor," Cullen tells her, brow slightly furrowed in worry. "Warden Alistair will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He's assisting them until you arrive." A terrified scream sounds from behind us and I turn to see a soldier plummet from the wall, having been pushed off by a demon. "There's too much resistance on the walls," Cullen continues, voice rising. "Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance."

Aila nods and Cullen jogs off. "All right, people. Let's do this," she shifts the sword in her grip and we head for the battlements. We keep fighting our way through, taking on both Wardens and demons alike. Aila tries to reason with the Wardens, but they refuse to listen. We descend a flight of stairs to where a few blood mages are attempting a ritual.

"Keep your distance!" one of the warriors yells, once all the mages are dead, and Aila holds up a hand to halt us.

"The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, _not_ to kill Wardens!" Aila shouts back. "If you fall back, you won't be harmed!"

"Right… my men will stay back," the man says in a less panicked voice. "We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

We continue on and finally reach the battlements. Our goal now becomes clearing the areas around the ladders so the Inquisition's soldiers can climb up. It all goes smoothly, more or less, until we emerge from a tower room and see a Pride demon stomping around ahead of us.

"Shit," I mutter. _That thing is huge!_ Wisdom may have been a Pride demon for a short while, but we didn't have to fight it. There will be no avoiding this one, though.

"Blood mages!" Hawke exclaims from nearby. "It's always blood mages!"

Pride isn't the only demon present. There are also hooded, floating ones that seem to emanate cold. I remember that those ones can pack a punch from a distance and sneak up behind the nearest one, stabbing it in the back. I twist the dagger and drag it down. The demon gives an ear-piercing shriek, body contorting in agony, before dissolving into wisps. I focus on repeating this technique with the others. Cole joins me while the others take on the Pride demon.

One of the creatures manages to catch my leg with a blast so cold it burns. "Fuck!"

"Burning, stinging, seeping into my bones," Cole speaks my thoughts, voice tinged with worry.

"I'm all right," I tell him, gritting my teeth and limping around the chaos to deal with the demon.

Aila opens a small rift above the Pride demon and it falls to one knee. A quick thrust of the sword by Blackwall finishes it off. There are a few blood mages left that we quickly take care of.

"Inquisitor!" Hawke calls, grinning while blood oozes from a cut on his brow. "Always a pleasure!"

"Good work! Stay with my forces and see that they survive this," Aila instructs.

Hawke nods, "I'll keep the demons off them as best I can."

We keep pushing forward, pausing in a less hostile area to heal injuries. As we do so, I can hear Alistair talking to Aila about reasoning with Clarel. A few more doors and we finally reach the Warden Commander, along with the rest of the Wardens. She's slitting someone's throat, a dark-haired man by her side. An unopened rift sits in the middle of the area and my eyes narrow. _Wait a second…_

Aila runs into the light and the man spots her. "Stop them! We must complete the ritual!" he calls and the rest of the Wardens turn to us with hostile faces, weapons drawn.

The Inquisitor holds up a hand, telling us to wait. "Clarel," Aila shouts, "if you complete that ritual, you're doing exactly what Erimond wants."

Erimond doesn't allow the woman a chance to respond. "What, fighting the Blight?" he sneers. "Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn't want that?" He grandstands, "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"We make the sacrifices no one else will," Clarel adds. "Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

Alistair steps forward, eyes narrowed. "And then _he_ binds your mages to Corypheus!"

"Corypheus?" Clarel asks, voice weak with shock. "But he's dead."

Erimond moves closer to her and leans in. I can barely hear his next words, "These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel."

Clarel rubs a hand over her face, then seems to come to a decision. "Bring it through." Mages begin opening the rift. It cracks and widens and the air shudders. Something on the other side growls and the hair stands up on the back of my neck.

Hawke, who has apparently joined us at some point, also steps forward. "Please," he begs, "I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!"

"I helped fight the Archdemon in Ferelden," Alistair speaks again. "Could you _consider_ listening to me?"

Erimond says something else to Clarel, but it's drowned out by the rift.

"Blackwall," Aila turns, "can you talk some sense into them?"

Blackwall nods and projects his voice. "You don't know me, but you may have heard my name. Like you, I've given my life to the Grey Wardens." _Not entirely true, but that's not what matters at this point._ "The first time I put on this armor, I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something honorable, something with a purpose. I know how good that feels. How safe. But fighting and dying here today won't stop the Blight. If you want to stop the Blight, kill that bastard up there," Blackwall nods in Erimond's direction. "His master is the living embodiment of its corruption." The Wardens frown and turn, one by one, to look up at Clarel and Erimond.

The two of them seem to be arguing about something, then Erimond turns to face us. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor!" he shouts at Aila. "He sent me _this_ to welcome you!" He knocks his staff against the stone floor and a horrible screeching rips through the night.

"The dragon," I whisper to Aila and she nods.

Suddenly, the creature swoops down out of the clouds, shooting what appears to be red lyrium shards from its mouth, and I dive for cover. The creature circles a few times before landing on a tower and screeching some more. When I look back to where Erimond was, I see him lying on the ground and Clarel appearing more than a little pissed off. She shoots a bolt of lightning at the dragon and it takes off, diving at her. Erimond flees and Clarel pursues, only stopping to shout at the other Wardens, "Help the Inquisitor!"

By this time, a few demons have managed to slip through the rift, including another Pride demon. _Again?_ Aila leaps into the fray and we follow. I dart in to slash at the creature only when I see an opening. I know that I'm no match for it head-on. The Wardens join in and I move to pick off the smaller demons, thinking that I'll be of more use that way. Eventually, the Pride demon falls and Aila leads the six of us out of the area and along a walkway. The dragon circles, shooting red lyrium at us, and we have to duck behind pillars to avoid the blasts. _Holy fuck!_

The path narrows and, of course, that's when the beast decides to latch onto the side of the tower and shoot red lightning… something at us. I squeeze myself against the wall, cursing loudly. Aila doesn't get out of the way fast enough and cries out as a bolt strikes her. The dragon takes off and Blackwall rushes to her side.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insists and pushes forward, hunching over slightly. We keep running until we round a corner to find Erimond casting spells at Clarel while she advances on him, unharmed.

"You!" she hisses. "You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!" She blasts him off his feet.

Erimond chuckles weakly, "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch." He's still on the ground, but he spits venom at her. "All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes, and you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!" Clarel snarls and sends another blast at him, so forceful it sends him skidding a few meters across the stone. "You could have served a new god," he moans, curled into a ball.

"I will _never_ serve the Blight," Clarel growls with conviction. Then, without any warning, the dragon swoops from the sky, lands behind Clarel, and snaps its jaws around her.

"Oh my God!" I cry out, flinching back as Blackwall mutters, "Maker…" and Aila gasps. The sickening crunch of bones is the only response we get as the dragon takes off with Clarel still in its maw. It lands higher up, shaking the Warden Commander and sending her flying. She lands near Aila and I cover my mouth in horror at her mutilated body. The dragon slinks toward us and we start backing up. _Fuck! That thing is terrifying!_

It ignores Clarel, who is bleeding and crawling and muttering something. I glance over my shoulder and realize we're quickly running out of room to retreat. With the dragon directly above Clarel, poised to leap, she rolls over and sends a massive bolt of magic straight into its chest. The creature stumbles, smashing into the stone floor, breaking it apart, and skidding off the edge as we leap out of its way.

There's a moment of stillness before the stone begins to crack and shake. "Run!" Aila shouts and I start scrabbling to escape the crumbling floor. As a large chunk gives out from under my feet and Solas yanks me to safety, my memories finally piece together.

_Oh fuck! Motherfucking son of a bitch! How the FUCK did I forget this?!_ I keep running and jumping. I remember that the Inquisitor has to fall first and glance back just in time to see a huge chunk of the tower break free, Aila, Alistair, and Blackwall clinging to it. Cole loses his footing and falls over the edge after them and the next piece to crumble has Solas, Hawke, and I following.

"OPEN A RIFT!" I scream, arms flailing as I spin and plummet. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_ There's a loud, deep crackling and green light blinds me. I pass through the light and see the ground rising up quickly, making me scream louder and squeeze my eyes shut. My momentum slows, but I still slam into the ground, breath whooshing out of me. When I open my eyes, I can't tell which way is up and the effect is disorienting. I groan and roll to my hands and knees, then push to my feet.

I look around, noticing the others slowly getting to their feet as well, and realize I'm hanging upside down from a rock arch. Well, more like standing on it… upside down… "What the fuck?" The blood isn't even rushing to my head and that's just weird. I start walking down the arch until it connects with the ground, then press my right foot to it and finally stand the right way. "That's really fucking strange," I mumble.

"Well, this is unexpected," Alistair remarks, looking a bit dazed and standing sideways on a rock.

"We were falling," Hawke is upside down like I was. "If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom." I have to stifle a laugh with my hand.

"No, this is the Fade," Solas replies with awe. "The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through… and survived." He turns to me, voice filled with barely restrained excitement, "Just as you said, _lethal'lan_." He gazes around in wonder. "I never thought I would ever find myself here physically… Look," he points. "The Black City, almost close enough to touch."

"This must be very exciting for you, Solas," Aila remarks with a hint of sarcasm. "Any advice you have on what exactly is going on would be wonderful."

Solas ignores Aila, focusing on Cole. "Cole, how does it feel to be back home?"

Cole is shaking his head rapidly, arms wrapped around his torso. "I can't be here. Not like this. Not like me!" _Oh shit, Cole… I'm sorry… I forgot about this, too… I shouldn't have let Aila bring you._

"It's all right," Solas soothes. "We'll make it right."

Cole studies his surroundings with a frown. "This place is wrong," he insists. "I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I know it wasn't like this."

"It's not how I remember the Fade, either," Hawke agrees. "Perhaps it's because we're here physically, instead of just dreaming." He turns back to Aila. "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

"I don't know," Aila admits. "I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this."

Hawke frowns. "Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now. That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

"In the real world, the rift with the demons in it was nearby. In the main hall," Alistair reminds us. "Can we get out the same way?"

Aila deliberates for a moment, then shrugs. "It beats waiting around for the demons to find us, right?" She nods toward the rift. "There. Let's go."

The rest of us follow after Aila, Alistair and Hawke coming down from their strange perches. I walk faster until I'm beside Cole. "I'm so sorry, Cole. I forgot about how being here would affect you," I apologize sincerely, trying to see his face from under that large hat of his. I hold out my hand, palm up, and he grasps it tightly. Other than that, he doesn't respond, just continues to mutter about how wrong this all is. I can't help but agree. My memories of this are slowly returning, but the foreknowledge does nothing to comfort me.

I let go of Cole's hand and approach Aila. "I need to talk to you for a second," I whisper and she eyes me curiously. "Do you… do you believe that you're the Herald of Andraste?" I ask softly.

Aila's brows furrow and she contemplates my question. "No, not really," she finally admits. "Sometimes I wish that I was, then maybe all of this madness would make sense, have some meaning. But… no."

I sigh with relief. "That makes things easier. You'll regain your memories of what happened very soon and I didn't want it to be too much of a shock," I explain.

"Thank you," she places a hand on my shoulder. "I appreciate that."

I shrug, looking away. "No problem." I fall back to walk with Cole again.

Solas joins us. "This is fascinating," he announces, smiling, then tilts his head, "It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade…" He sighs dreamily.

"You're such a nerd," I laugh. _And kind of cute._ He gives me a questioning look but I don't bother explaining.

"I don't suppose you have any words of wisdom for this part of the Fade?" Aila asks wearily.

Solas' face scrunches up. "Why would _I_ ever voluntarily come to _this_ part of the Fade?" he replies arrogantly and I raise an incredulous eyebrow at him. He ignores it. "The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful. Some variety of Fear, I would guess." His voice returns to normal. "I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is sure to be a _fascinating_ experience." By Aila's body language, I assume she's rolling her eyes or something similar.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Cole mutters to my left, breathing hard, hands twisting together. "Wringing me out. Wrought right and rigid. Can't relax. Can't release…" I offer my hand again, and when he takes it, I give a reassuring squeeze.

"It's all right, Cole," Aila calls back to him. "We'll get you out of here soon."

"Thank you," Cole replies softly. "It should be like home. It's not. This isn't me, not this part."

We continue on, walking up a wide staircase. Aila freezes at the top, gasping loudly. The rest of us join her and there are a few more gasps and exclamations. An older woman in elaborate gold and red robes stands proudly, watching us in return.

"I greet you, Warden," she speaks evenly with a slight Orlesian accent. "And you, Champion."

"Divine Justinia…" Aila breathes in awe and the woman smiles slightly. "Back at Haven, I saw… I thought I saw… How can you be here?" she struggles for words.

"I'm not so sure that _is_ her," Alistair regards the woman warily. "I don't recall the Divine glowing. In my experience, that's something spirits do."

"You think my survival impossible," Justinia replies, "yet here you stand alive, in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require more time we do not have."

"Really?" Hawke asks dubiously. "How hard is it to answer one question? I'm a human and you are…"

Justinia extends her hands, "I am here to help you." She looks at Aila, "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

Aila narrows her eyes suspiciously, "The real Divine would have no way of knowing that I'd been made Inquisitor."

"I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus," Justinia explains, gazing off into the distance. "It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? _Its_ work."

"I'd like to have a few words with this Nightmare about that," Alistair growls.

"You will have your chance, brave Warden," Justinia assures. "This place of darkness is its lair."

"Corypheus seems to have a lot of demons at his disposal," Aila observes. "How does he command so many?"

"I know not how he commands his army of demons," the Divine responds. "His power may come from the Blight itself. But the Nightmare serves willingly, for Corypheus has brought much terror to this world. He was one of the magisters that released the first Blight upon the world, was he not? Every child's cry as the Archdemon circles, every dwarf's whimper in the Deep Roads… the Nightmare has fed well." _This woman talks a lot…_

Aila's face conveys understanding. "Nightmare is the big demon Erimond was trying to bring through."

"Yes."

"It's nearby?" the Inquisitor asks and Justinia repeats her answer. "Well, shit." _Indeed._

"When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you," the Divine explains further. "Before you do anything else, you must recover it." She looks to her right, where a few of those wispy green demons are moving about, "These are your memories, Inquisitor."

Aila draws her weapon and the rest of us follow suit. We fall upon the demons, slaying them quickly and efficiently. Aila crouches beside one of the glowing balls left behind and holds her marked hand to it.

"Bring forth the sacrifice," a deep voice booms. _Corypheus._ Aila moves to another orb. "Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia's voice this time. A third orb holds the Inquisitor's own voice, "What's going on here?" The fourth orb does something much different.

My vision goes dark before a scene begins to play. Divine Justinia is suspended in mid-air, held there by a group of Warden mages.

"Now is the hour of our victory," I can hear Corypheus speak, but I can't see him.

"Why are you doing this?" Justinia asks the Wardens desperately. "You of all people?"

Corypheus finally comes into view, walking toward Justinia and activating the orb in his hand. _Fen'Harel's orb._ "Keep the sacrifice still." He holds it toward the woman and it seems to pull some sort of energy off of her.

"Someone help me!" the Divine cries.

A moment later, the double doors open and Aila steps through. "What's going on here?" she shouts accusingly. Corypheus turns to confront the intruder and Justinia uses his distraction to knock the orb from his hand. It bounces and rolls across the floor toward Aila, who dives to grabs it, screaming as the power transfers into her hand. Everything explodes and my vision goes white, then clears to show the Fade once more.

I blink rapidly and glance at Solas discreetly out of the corner of my eye. He notices and returns the look, then we both focus on Aila.

"So that mark on your hand…" Alistair breaks the silence, "it wasn't sent by Andraste. It came from that orb Corypheus was using."

The Divine moves to Aila's side. "Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City," she explains. "Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

Aila seems to be composing herself, replacing her Inquisitor mask, "Was that everything you wanted me to see?"

"For the time being," Justinia nods. "You cannot escape the lair of The Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste," she urges. "I will prepare the way ahead." She disappears.

"What's wrong, Hawke?" I hear Alistair ask and I turn around. _Hawke_ has _been unusually quiet…_

"I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision," Hawke replies. "Their actions led to her death."

"I assumed Corypheus took their minds," Alistair frowns. "You've seen it happen before. Come on. You can add it to the list of things to yell at the Wardens about when we get out of here."

Hawke sneers, "Oh, I intend to."

I move to Aila's side and lower my voice. "You okay?"

She rubs her temple, "Yeah… I think so." I nod and drop back again.

We continue walking and the others discuss the new information. I tune them out, lost in my own thoughts. I look back and forth between Alistair and Hawke. _One of them gets left behind. Well, at least they do in the game. I can't let that happen here. Right…?_ I frown at my feet as they slosh through the puddles. _No. I need to figure out what to do. Alistair plans on proposing to someone, for God's sake! I wonder if Hawke has anyone waiting for him…_


	23. Dead woman walking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, people! Over 200 reviews! Whaaaat? Here’s part two of Here Lies the Abyss. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age.

"I'm a dead man walking here  
But that's the least of all my fears...  
... Miles and miles in my bare feet  
Still can't lay me down to sleep  
If I die before I wake  
I know the Lord my soul won't take"

-Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars

We fight our way through another group of demons and emerge into a large area.

"Ah, we have a visitor," Nightmare greets us in a deep voice. I glance around nervously, feeling its eyes on me. "Some foolish little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders. You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten." The demons in the clearing begin attacking us and we have to fight back. I commence my usual tactic of skirting around the edges and picking off the lesser ones. "You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is _me_. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten." The Nightmare goes silent as we finish off the last demon.

**_It will know._ **

The voice startles me so badly that I can't control my flinch. It's been silent for weeks now… I'd nearly forgotten… My breath quickens and my palms sweat, realizing the voice is right; Nightmare will know _everything_.

"Rhynn," Solas' voice breaks through my panic.

"Hmm?" I blink at him and his frown deepens.

"I asked if you are all right," he places a hand on my arm, examining my face.

I plaster on a smile, "Yeah, don't worry about me." He narrows his eyes skeptically but lets it go.

We make our way up one flight of stairs and down another. There's movement in the shadows, then the creatures come at us.

Aila gives a screech, "Spiders!" Part of my brain notes this as confusing, because I don't see any spiders. What I _do_ see are the burrowing beetle-like things from Planet of the Bugs. The ones I once saw gnaw their way into a larger insect while it was still alive. I know that this must be a trick of some sort, that they can't really be here, but a shudder still runs through me. I use my throwing knives to pick some of them off, not wanting to get close. An irrational part of me fears they'll crawl under my own skin. Once they're dealt with, our group moves on.

My mind is only partially on the next fight we engage in as I try to think of solutions to the Alistair-Hawke dilemma. _Is there some way I can get us all out without someone having to stay behind to distract Nightmare? That would be ideal. It's hard to know if that's possible until we get there, though…_

We walk up another flight of stairs and Nightmare starts talking to us again. "Perhaps _I_ should be afraid," it mocks, "facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." It give a creepy chuckle as we reach the top. There are burned bodies in front of us and Aila carefully steps toward them. All at once, they explode and demons burst forth. As we fight, Nightmare continues speaking.

"Like Blackwall. Ah, there's nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are _nothing_ like a Grey Warden."

"I'll show you a Warden's strength, beast," Blackwall grumbles. Nightmare moves on.

"Are you afraid, Cole? I can help you forget, just like you help other people. We're so very much alike, you and I." _Don't listen to him, Cole._

"No," is the only reply Cole gives and Nightmare is quiet for a while as we keep moving.

" _Dirth ma, harellan,_ " Nightmare speaks to Solas now. " _Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din."_ I only understand a few words, but they give me some idea as to what the demon is saying. _Yikes…_

" _Banal nadas_ ," Solas replies evenly, face an unreadable mask.

The sound of my first planet's language in that horrible voice is startling and disturbing. Nightmare addresses me with a greeting used only between close friends and my lip curls. "Do you think they blamed you as the flesh melted from their bones, regretted ever calling you friend?" it now asks in English and my eyes narrow. "How many more deaths, Ree," I flinch, "before you finally realize they are better off without you?" I don't give it the satisfaction of a verbal response, scowling murderously at the path ahead. _I'll enjoy hurting you, Nightmare._ It laughs again, perhaps having sensed my thoughts.

"Did you think it mattered, Hawke?" the Fear demon taunts a short while later. "Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about." _So Hawke does have someone… Fenris. I can't let any of these people die..._

"Well, that's going to grow tiresome quickly," Hawke sasses and I have to commend him for the unaffected response. More of those bugs come at us and, again, I strike at them from a distance.

"Those were little fears," Solas explains afterward, "tiny manifestations spawned from The Nightmare itself."

"And _of course_ they look like giant spiders," Aila sighs.

"Spiders?" Blackwall sounds confused and surprised. "That is _not_ what I saw."

"Remember," Solas continues, "we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us." Blackwall groans at that. _I wonder what Solas sees._

"Mission accomplished, little shits," I mutter as I collect my knives.

The Divine is waiting for us around the next corner. "The Nightmare is closer now," she tells us. "It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger." Aila approaches her and begins asking questions and I tune them out, gazing around.

"This is _incredible_ ," Solas breathes and I offer him a small smile. Our surroundings really are quite something, and perhaps if my mind wasn't occupied with darker thoughts, I'd be able to enjoy them. Solas turns to study me, "Something is bothering you, Rhynn. Have you recalled more about our situation?"

I decide to go with a half-truth. "Our confrontation with Nightmare won't be pleasant. I'm just trying to find a way to make it a bit less horrible."

"I don't think any of us expect it to be a frolic through the fields," Blackwall adds to our conversation and I give a weak chuckle.

The Inquisitor finishes talking to Justinia and we have to kill more of those wisp things. They drop Aila's memories and she repeats the process from earlier.

"Go," says a raspy voice.

"The demons!" Justinia's voice calls from the next.

"Keep running." Aila's voice this time.

The fourth memory sends us into a yet another vision. Aila is climbing up a stone wall that looks like it used to be a staircase. Spiders skitter behind her, gaining ground.

"This is the Breach back in Haven," I hear Aila say from outside the scene. "That's how we… how _I_ escaped."

In the vision, Divine Justinia stands atop the wall, reaching down to Aila. "The Demons!" she cries.

The scene skips to when Aila makes it up; she and Justinia are running toward a rift. "Keep running!" Aila urges. The Divine screams as fearlings grab her legs and Aila tries to help.

"Go," Justinia whispers before being pulled over the edge. More demons are crawling toward Aila and she turns, leaping through the rift.

The vision disappears and I blink a few times. "It was you," I hear Aila say to Justinia, who is watching with a sad look upon her face. "They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died."

The elderly woman nods slowly, "Yes."

"So this can't be the Divine," Alistair says behind me.

"You don't say," Hawke snarks.

The Divine… the spirit sighs, "I am sorry if I disappoint you." Her human visage transforms then, into a creature of light possessing the features of Justinia. She floats a few feet from the ground, glowing golden. _Oh wow... that's rather beautiful, actually._

"Are you a memory of the Divine?" Aila asks. "A reflection?"

"If that is the story you wish to tell," the spirit replies, "it is not a bad one."

"What we do know," Hawke interjects sourly, "is that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens."

Alistair turns to face him. "What, again? It wasn't their fault!" he insists. "We can debate the depressing details when we get back to Adamant."

"Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone," Hawke argues.

"What are you saying?" Alistair crosses his arms. "Terrible actions are only justified when they're _your_ terrible actions? You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!" he accuses.

Hawke steps forward, getting in Alistair's face. "To protect innocent mages. Not madmen drunk on blood magic! But you'd ignore that," he sneers. "Because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens… even if that's what we need!" _Whoa, what?_

"Agreed," Solas just _has_ to get in his two cents. _Seriously? Now is not the time, Fen._ "The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now."

"The blood sings softly," Cole adds. "It never stops, and then it's all they hear. We can't let them hurt more people." _You too, Cole? Does everyone here think the Wardens should go? How do they expect to stop the next Blight? Only a Warden can kill an Archdemon! Though I suppose that's not common knowledge…_

"What are you saying?" Blackwall asks with muted outrage. "You want to get rid of the Wardens? Everyone makes mistakes. They would have died to save us!"

"This debate can wait until we're out of danger," Aila interjects sternly. _Thank you!_

"Inquisitor…" Hawke is looking over Aila's shoulder with wide eyes. I turn to see more of those bug demons headed our way.

"The Nightmare has found us," the Justinia-Spirit informs us, elevating further from the ground and disappearing.

After taking care of the creatures, Solas speaks again. "Come. Real or not, the Divine is the key to escaping from the Fade." We start walking again, following after the spirit, and Solas falls into step with me. "I noticed you stayed silent during the discussion back there. What are your thoughts on the issue?" his tone is academic in nature, but I'm _really_ not in the mood for such things.

I give him a flat look, voice cold, "When in life-threatening situations, I prefer _not_ to fan the flames of ridiculous arguments."

Solas' expression becomes unreadable and his voice turns snide. "Ah, I see. Is it that you possess no opinion or – "

" _Don't_ ," I hiss and walk faster, putting space between us.

In the next area, Nightmare begins its taunting again. "The bastard thinks he can prove himself? It's far too late for that. Your whole life, you left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the Throne of Ferelden… Who will you hide behind now?"

"Is that all it's got?" Alistair scoffs. "I've heard worse than that from Morrigan." _I believe that._ My lips twitch a bit.

There are more demons to defeat, each a bit more powerful than the last, and the constant fighting takes its toll on us. I receive a few slashes from one of those spindly demons and have to use a potion to stop the bleeding. I feel exhausted and just wish that this was over already. I can tell the others are in a similar state.

"Do you think you can fight me?" Nightmare continues, as if sensing our weariness. "I am your every fear come to life! I am the Veiled hand of Corypheus himself! The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me!"

The Justinia-Spirit is floating by a green barrier of some sort. "Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life," she mocks and Nightmare roars in anger. Justinia dissipates the barrier and vanishes again.

The next area is large and open, with a strange body of water to the right and even more demons to fight.

"What is… is that a graveyard?" Aila asks after the demons have been disposed of and begins walking toward the area in question.

I suddenly recall what's in the graveyard and grab her arm, "Wait. I don't know if we should go over there."

"Why not?" she asks curiously.

"Each stone is engraved with the worst fears of your companions," I tell her quietly. "They probably wouldn't appreciate having you, or anyone else, read them." Her eyebrows raise in surprise and understanding and she nods, leading us away.

Justinia waits by another barrier and we have to hold off the encroaching demons as she brings it down. Once it's gone, we follow directly behind the spirit as she leads us through a tunnel. "You must get through the rift, Inquisitor. Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength," she urges. "That will banish the army of demons… and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade."

We emerge on the other side and I flinch back, breath escaping my lungs. "Mother of God…" _Holy fucking shit, that's a huge motherfucking spider!_ I'm screaming internally. Aila approaches it slowly, cautiously, as some sort of weird humanoid demon with spider legs on its back floats toward us.

"If you would," Justinia pleads, "please tell Leliana, "I am sorry. I failed you, too."" She flies toward The Nightmare, crackling with energy. A bolt brings the smaller demon to the ground, then Justinia sacrifices herself in an explosion of brilliant light. I squeeze my eyes shut and when I open them again, both Justinia and the giant spider are gone. The other demon picks itself up and faces us with a growl.

The fight is long and arduous. Nightmare calls in lesser demons to attack as well, and they distract us while it re-casts its shield. The demon is hard to keep track of, disappearing and reappearing at random. By the end, I'm exhausted and I can no longer tell if the blood covering me is mine or something else's. The creature finally falls and everyone runs for the rift. I stick close to Aila, silently urging us on. _We can make it, we can make it! Just run faster!_

We're so close… then the true form of Nightmare reappears, blocking our path. _No… NO!_

"How do we get by?" Alistair asks.

"Go," Hawke urges. "I'll cover you."

"No," Alistair replies. "You were right. The Wardens caused this mess. A Warden must – "

"A Warden must help them rebuild!" Hawke interrupts. "That's _your_ job!" He looks back at the giant spider, face set. "Corypheus is mine."

My mind whirs with images. I imagine Alistair's sweetheart getting news of his death. _Is she the Hero? After all they've been through, to receive news like that…_ I remember Varric's face when he finds out Hawke has been left behind, his utter devastation upon losing his best friend. I carry that on to imagine Fenris' reaction. _What would he do, after losing one of the only good things life has ever given him… the person who helped him heal?_ And just like that, my mind is made up.

**_What are you doing?! Leave them to die! This isn't your fight!_ **

_Isn't it? No, I know what I need to do._

"I'll stay," I announce and all three of them whip around and stare at me, speechless. "It's ok. I'm a dead woman walking; it was only a matter of time. Tell Solas I'm sorry…" my voice cracks at the end. _Dareth shiral, lethal'lin._ _I hope you find happiness._

"Rhynn…" Aila whispers, face torn.

"Go!" I shout, pulling a throwing knife from my back and approaching The Nightmare. "Hey dickweed! Over here!" Its many eyes roll in their sockets until they fall upon me. "I have _many_ fears for you to feed off of and I just _love_ giant spiders! I bet we could get along swimmingly! What do you say, do you think we can reach an accord?" I see Aila, Hawke, and Alistair out of the corner of my eye, creeping past The Nightmare's legs while I have it distracted.

"You'll die slowly, choking on your terror!" it booms, jaws gnashing.

"I was afraid you'd say that," I bring my arm back and fling my knife at its largest eye. _Eyes are always weak spots, right?_ The blade strikes home and the eye bursts, spraying disgusting goo everywhere.

The Nightmare tries to squash me with one of its legs and I roll out of the way, throwing another knife and destroying another eye. I do this until I run out of knives, then unsheathe my dagger and run at the demon. I position myself beneath it, trying to stay in the blind spots I've created for myself. I slash at the legs I can reach, aiming for joints. I'm able to render one of the legs useless, but, well… spiders have eight legs. So it really doesn't do shit except make the demon angrier. The Nightmare kicks a leg under itself, knocking me off my feet and sending me skidding across the uneven rock. My head collides with something hard and my vision darkens around the edges. _Fuck…_ I roll to my feet as quickly as I can, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the sudden fuzziness. I dart back under the creature and continue my dance, taking out another leg on the same side as the first. This unbalances The Nightmare somewhat and I smile grimly, aiming for a third. But my head is still swimming and I don't see the leg swinging at me until it's too late. The blow sends me sprawling, directly below the demon's head.

It chuckles darkly. "Nowhere to run this time, little traveler." The Nightmare opens its mouth and descends. The tip of a fang pierces my stomach and I scream in agony, then it pulls out with a wet squelch. I'm nearly unconscious when the pain just… disappears. My vision sharpens in time to see the demon rearing back for another strike. I roll out of the way, lying between its fangs as they crash into the ground. Nightmare roars in frustration.

_The explosive!_ I suddenly remember the item and fumble with my belt to open the pouch as Nightmare rears back yet again. I finally get my fingers to wrap around the object and I pull it out. The Fear demon's head is descending once again as I remove the cover and flip the switch. I sit up for leverage and throw the explosive as hard as I can into the spider's gaping mouth. It strikes flesh and spikes shoot out, keeping it there. Fangs dig into the rock on either side of me and I scrabble backwards, trying to get my feet under me. As soon as I do, I turn tail and run, as fast as my legs can carry me. The explosion is loud and violent and the shockwave blasts me off my feet, slamming me into a jagged rock. The sharp edges tear at my skin, but again I feel no pain. _Am I in shock?_ I roll to a stop, covered in blood and ichor.

Slowly, feeling dazed, I push to my knees and look over at The Nightmare. The large body of a spider lays dead on the ground, a ragged hole where its head should be. I let out a tired and extremely relieved sigh, sitting back on my heels. As the adrenaline leaves me, I begin to tremble. I wrap my arms around my torso in an attempt to stop it… and something doesn't feel right… I peel my arms away, look down at my stomach, and scream. The upper left part is a grotesque sight, a puncture wound going straight through to my back.

"Oh God… oh Jesus…" I cry in horror and it takes me a moment to realize there's not enough blood. _What the fuck?_ A glance at my arm shows the deep scratches there are bleeding sluggishly… but not this clearly fatal wound. "That… doesn't make sense… what…?" I hesitantly poke the tattered flesh… nothing. There's blood, sure, but it's not gushing out of me. _What is going on?_ I glance up and around, as if my surroundings will provide an answer. I notice that the rift behind Nightmare is gone… closed, and my shoulders sag. I knew it would happen, but…

"I'm alone," I whisper. "Alone in the Fade with a hole in my stomach that defies all laws of physics and biology…" _It's just a flesh wound._

I begin laughing hysterically, clutching my torso and rocking back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit! What does she do now?
> 
> So, we all know how Solas feels about Grey Wardens. I'm curious about your opinions: Since he thinks Wardens are no longer needed, do you think what Solas has planned will end the Blights?
> 
> Most likely translation of Nightmare's conversation with Solas:
> 
> Nightmare: Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din. (Speak rebel! You care for nothing but victory. Your pride will be your death.)
> 
> Solas: Banal nadas. (Nothing is inevitable.)
> 
> Other phrases:
> 
> Dareth shiral: Safe travels
> 
> Lethal'lin: Male kin
> 
> (All translations taken from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen)


	24. Alone again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahoy! And… uh… maybe some Solas POV *starts hyperventilating*
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is bring you down  
I'll bleed out for you  
So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins  
And I close my eyes  
And I take it in  
I'm bleeding out  
I'm bleeding out for you, for you

-Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

**Rhynn**

_How long have I been here? Minutes... hours… days_? There's no concept of time in the Fade, no sun rising and setting to mark its passing. Just a hazy green light that plays tricks with my eyes.

I'm sitting near where the rift once was… just in case. For the first while after Nightmare's death, I had to fight off lesser demons. The big daddy of all fear demons lies dead by my hand, and they still come at me. _Not sure I understand that._ But bodies litter the ground now, and the remaining demons leave me be. Perhaps they finally gave up, or perhaps they're just biding their time. I prefer the former.

"I guess it's just you and me now."

**_It was always just you and me. You simply deluded yourself into thinking otherwise for a short while._ **

I feel as if I haven't slept in years. Pain has returned and every inch of my body aches… except for that damn puncture wound. It just sits there, mocking me with its impossibility. I'm thirsty, as well, and the first pangs of hunger pull at my stomach. Which confuses the hell out of me, because I'm fairly certain said stomach has been ruptured.

And it's too quiet… I don't even hear the distant screeching of demons any longer. The silence is unnerving, making my skin crawl, so I begin humming to fill it, an improvised tune to occupy myself. I lean back against the rough rock, deciding to remain here. _It's not as if I have anywhere to go._ They all probably think I'm dead, but I'll stay… just in case.

                                                              

 

**Solas**

I leap through the rift, directly behind Cole. The Wardens have apparently been awaiting our return, as they are gathered around us now. I turn, expecting to see the others following. Nothing. My brow furrows. _What could be delaying them?_

"Why haven't they come through yet?" I hear Warden Blackwall wonder as I continue to watch the rift.

"I do not know…" I reply, moving closer to it. I'm about to go back in when the Inquisitor emerges, followed by the Champion and Warden Alistair. She spins about and holds her hand to the rift. It closes with a loud crack.

It is then that I realize there is one person unaccounted for. "Rhynn…" the name emerges on a breath and I cast my gaze about frantically. "Where is Rhynn?" Louder this time.

The Inquisitor turns to face me with a devastated expression. "I'm so sorry, Solas…" she whispers and my blood runs cold. _No…_

" _What happened?_ " I growl.

"She… she…" Trevelyan swallows, noticeably shaken. I open my mouth to demand answers when Hawke speaks.

"The Nightmare reappeared, blocking our path. Rhynn volunteered to stay behind and distract it while we escaped," he lowers his gaze to the ground, shoulders hunched.

"No." _That cannot be…_ I shake my head minutely, eyes unseeing. _Rhynn…_

"She told me… Maker…" Trevelyan chokes on her words. "She told me to tell you she's sorry."

 _Sorry…?_ Anger wells up quite suddenly.

"You…" I glare up at the Inquisitor, "you _left her there_?" I feel my face contort into something very unlike the usual wise apostate veneer.

"She insisted that – " Warden Alistair begins and I silence him with a glance. Something ugly and violent twists within me and… I can't stay here. I spin around and walk away quickly. One look at my face has the crowd of Grey Wardens parting to allow passage.

I keep going, down corridors and through doors. No destination in mind, only the urge to run. I want to shift form and tear off into the night, never to return. But I am no more capable of abandoning my place within the Inquisition than escaping my own thoughts. And oh, how they claw and burn. Every interaction we ever had, every conversation, every teasing smile, and the few kisses we shared… they pour like a waterfall into my mind and I cannot stem the flow.

My very being screams at me to turn around, go back to the Inquisitor and demand that she reopen the rift. _Surely she cannot be gone._ But no, I am no fool. Rhynn only had her knives. _There is no way she could have…_ The thought is too painful to finish and I lean against a wall, sliding down and dropping my head into my hands.

_Yet another friend I could not save... Oh, lethal'lan, ir abelas…_

                                                              

 

**Rhynn**

My head bobs and I jerk awake. _Damn it!_ I slap my cheeks to wake myself up and start singing any upbeat song I can remember, my voice even raspier than normal. _So thirsty…_

I cast a sideways glance at a nearby puddle, licking my chapped lips. _No!_ My eyes snap away and I focus on remembering lyrics. Time passes, presumably.

**_They're not coming back for you._ **

_Maybe they just want to wait… make sure Nightmare won't come through the rift as soon as they open it._

**_They're probably already on their way back to Skyhold._ **

I breathe harder, making my already parched throat worse. _Alone. Trapped here. Forever? Or will I die of dehydration?_ I eye the puddle again and it looks more tempting than before. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and it hurts to swallow. _It can't be that bad… just a sip. I'll be fine._

On shaky limbs, I crawl toward the water. _Just a sip…_ I cup my hands under the surface and bring them to my lips, sucking up a bit of the cool liquid and sighing with relief. I can't stop myself from drinking more. I walk back over to my spot and sit down, feeling much better.

"See, everything is fine," I tell myself.

"Is it?"

My head whips to the right. Sitting beside me is a heavily charred body. By all rights, the person should be dead, but they blink at me and tilt their head.

I scream.

                                                            

 

**Solas**

Back at _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ , I place Rhynn's things carefully upon the sofa in the rotunda and sit next to them. I stare blankly at the wall across from me and worry the strap of the bag between my fingers.

None of this feels real. All of it feels wrong. It should be _her_ seated beside me, not her possessions. I close my eyes and picture it, apparent masochist that I am. She would lounge, one booted foot kicked up onto the cushion as if opposed to all things proper. _She never did care much for manners_. I recall her habit of talking with a mouth full of food, but what was once an annoyance now seems endearing.

In my scenario, I imagine she would hold a book in her lap and we'd discuss the theories within. The workings of her mind fascinated me from the very beginning. Even before she saved the soldier's life without a hint of magic, I noticed her. In my defense, she was not skilled at blending in. And while the many inhabitants of Haven were never difficult to parse, she was an anomaly. I observed her behavior, her appearance, her knowledge and compared them to what I knew of this world. Nothing fit.

Then she provided the missing pieces herself and they terrified me. This woman, this human, knew _everything_. She would spill my secrets, I was sure, and my already shoddy plans would crumble to nothing. Yet… she didn't flee with the rest of Haven's citizens when Corypheus attacked, instead staying to fight and spilling her own blood for the Inquisition's cause. And when I confronted her afterward, this strange creature somehow predicted my thoughts, whirling on me with such fire in her eyes that it took my breath away at the same time that it ignited my own temper. The fascination only grew from there, along with an attraction I spent months denying.

The imagined Rhynn at my side begins teasing me about some thing or another, as per usual. Our easy camaraderie was always a comfort after a particularly trying day. No matter my mood, she was capable of pulling a smile to my lips. Her sharp mind meant that she understood, and even enjoyed, my subtle jokes and jibes. Our resulting repartee was always refreshing and invigorating.

I wonder… would she bestow a kiss upon me before inevitably returning to her duties as a healer? She had begun doing that more often. After she shared that precious bit of her past, I was careful to let it be her choice. Rhynn had so little control over her own life… I wouldn't be the one to take this from her as well, despite how many times I wanted nothing more than to push her against the nearest surface and kiss her breathless.

I snap back to reality and glance down at her bag, opening it and pulling out her journal. I caress the soft leather cover and unwind the string binding it closed. _Forgive my weakness, lethal'lan…_ I skim through the numerous drawings until I come to the one of myself, tracing the lines with a finger. She told me that this book contained sketches of those who were important in her life. _I meant that much to her._ I let out a shuddering breath and turn the page, expecting only blankness. What I find is another image of myself, smiling and seemingly carefree. The sight is like a blow to the chest and I curl inward, head bowed, eyes tightly shut, and struggling to breathe.

After an immeasurable amount of time, the tightness in my chest lessens and I close the journal, placing it carefully back in her bag. I stand and face the blank wall next to my recently finished one, mind set. _You deserve to be remembered, 'ma falon._ I grab my supplies and begin.

                                                                   

 

**Rhynn**

"Go away," I moan, hands clamped over my ears and curled into a ball. There are so many of them now… my friends. They surround me and pull at my clothing with blackened and skeletal fingers, each wanting a piece. _How did they find me here?_ _What do they want?_ Have they finally come to exact revenge _?_ That must be it. They blame me for their deaths, for running away. Now they'll pick at my flesh until there's nothing left but my tainted soul. Maybe they'll take that, too. They deserve better.

"Didn't you miss us?" one of them asks in a guttural tongue. A bony hand clamps painfully onto my injured arm and I start to cry.

"So much… so much…" I mumble into the dirt. "But you're hurting me. Please go away!"

" _We're_ hurting _you?_ You left us to burn alive!"

"I'm so sorry!" I sob, digging my fingernails into the rock and feeling them break.

"What does 'sorry' do for us? Can it repair this damaged skin?" A hand smacks my cheek and drags down, nails scratching. I cry out in pain. The burnt skin flakes off and sticks to my face and I feel bile rise in my throat.

Rancid breath wafts into my nostrils as one of them ducks in close. "Open your eyes, Rhynn," it whispers.

"No," I choke.

"You can't even look at what you've done!" it screams and I flinch back.

"Look at us!" they all begin to chant, over and over. They hold me down and peel my eyelids back, forcing me to see their gruesome faces.

I scream and thrash, trying to get away. "Please, please, please…"

Eventually, I pass out.

                                                             

 

**Solas**

"I am sorry for your loss, Solas."

"Thank you, my friend." We continue wandering through one of many past versions of the Emerald Graves. After an extended period of not being able to make eye contact, the Inquisitor finally brought me along on one of her excursions. I feel guilty for the admission, but it is a relief to be somewhere other than Skyhold. There are too many memories there, and for the first time in a long while, I've had trouble sleeping for fear of encountering one of them in the Fade. "Rhynn was… an exceptional person." I glance off into the distance as my chest tightens. "I regret that I didn't have more time with her. There were so many questions I still wanted to ask."

"Tell me of her," the spirit requests and I comply. I tell it of the things Rhynn said and did. The things that made me laugh and the incredible knowledge she held and shared. The words pour out of me, catching and stinging along the way.

"You miss her." It is a statement, not a question.

"Desperately," I reply truthfully.

                                                      

 

**Rhynn**

Sleep brings no respite. My dead friends still claw at me, cursing my name. Only now, it's my spirit they latch onto. I slip into the recesses of my mind, searching for a safe place to hide away until this is over. _Please let it end._

_"Catch, Rhynn!" The ball hits me in the side of the head and I fall over._

_I rub the offended spot and glare at Mycah, "Ow, stupid! That hurt!"_

_"Yeah, well you suck at catching things!" He sticks out his tongue and makes a face._

_I make one back. "And you're dumb!" I throw the ball back and it hits him squarely on the nose, knocking him flat on his back. "Hah! Take that!" Mycah starts to cry, clutching his face, and my vindictive expression morphs into one of worry. "Mycah…?" I crawl over to him and see blood. "Mycah!" I look toward the house, panicked, "Dad! Dad, Mycah's hurt!" I turn back to my brother and help him sit up. "I'm sorry Myc! I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!"_

_Dad comes running out of the house and kneels next to us. "What happened, Rhynn?" He pulls Mycah's hand away to examine his face._

_"I'm sorry, Daddy! I didn't mean to!" I start crying._

_Dad hushes me gently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."_

_"I… I…" I sniffle and wipe my nose with the back of a hand, "I threw the ball at him 'cuz he was being mean and it hit his face. I didn't mean to hurt him."_

_Dad sighs and helps Mycah to his feet. "All right, come on. We need to go to the hospital."_

_"The hospital?!" My eyes widen and more tears slip free. "Is… is Myc gonna die?" I begin to sob._

_Dad chuckles and I don't understand why. "No, Rhynn. We just need to get his nose checked out. He'll be fine, sweetheart."_

_"Oh…" I hiccup and wipe my tears away, relieved._

_We drive to the hospital and have to wait for a really long time. It's boring and Mycah looks miserable. I hold his hand even though it's covered in blood and snot. That stuff never really bothered me anyway._

_We get called back and learn that Mycah's nose is broken. I feel really bad then. They have to put it back in place and that's super gross. But kinda cool. I ask the doctor a lot of questions and he's really nice, answering all of them._

_"Your girl sure seems interested in this kind of stuff," the doctor says to Daddy._

_Dad smiles at me. "Yeah, she's always trying to patch us up and diagnose us."_

_Both he and the doctor laugh a little and I blush. "Daddy…" I whine, ducking my head._

_"Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed of," the doctor tells me. "You keep watching after your family. They may just thank you for it someday." He winks and grins and I give him a shy smile._

_Mycah's nose never did look right after that._ The memory fades, only to be replaced with a new one. And then another after that. I relive these precious memories of my family, savoring them.

This becomes how I spend my sleeping hours, though I can't always tell the difference between those and the waking ones anymore. The only indicator is how my memories sometimes change a small area of the Fade around me when I'm asleep. It's much harder to manipulate things when I'm awake, I've realized.

I'm _so_ hungry, and despite part of me knowing how bad of an idea it is, I continue to drink the water here to quench my thirst. I feel like I should be dead by now… but no such luck. Perhaps this is my penance for the things I've done. _So be it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it seems a bit OOC for Rhynn to be so passive, that will be addressed next chapter.


	25. Anywhere but here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apparently lied about clearing things up concerning Rhynn's passive behavior. It will be in the next chapter, though.
> 
> Disclaimer: Bioware owns Age of the Dragons

**Solas**

Having returned from the Emerald Graves a bit earlier than planned, I walk toward the rotunda, hoping to lose myself in research. I open the last door and freeze, hand tightening on the knob. There is someone in my study, kneeling before the sofa and attempting to pick the lock on Rhynn's instrument case.

"Ah, what have we here?" My voice is hard and cold, with a slight mocking edge, and I slam the door behind me. The person startles and attempts to flee, but I restrain them with a flick of the wrist. I move in and circle slowly. "Would you care to explain your actions?"

"I-I-I w-was just curious!" His voice trembles and I surmise that if it weren't for my magic, the rest of him would follow suit. _Good._

"Truly?" I pretend to ponder and then shake my head. "No, I think it far more likely you were sent by someone." I grab the man's chin roughly, forcing his eyes to lock with my own. "Tell me who." I already have an idea, but confirmation is required.

"I j-just wanted to know what's in there! I swear!"

My anger spikes at his answer, eyes flashing. I growl and shove him against the wall, pinning him there with a forearm across the throat. "Try again."

The young man's entire body is shaking now. "L-Lady Leliana!" _As I thought._

"Well done." I ease the pressure of my arm somewhat. "You have my thanks." I take a step back, releasing him, and he runs from the room.

_It seems we need to have a little talk, Spymaster._

I begin climbing the stairs to the library, white-hot rage boiling my insides. _How dare she?!_

"Solas, what in Andraste's name is going on?" Dorian approaches as I pass, but I ignore him, eyes set determinedly on the path to the rookery. I climb another set of stairs and come to a stop before the spymaster's desk. She lifts her head, face purposely serene.

"Solas," she nods. "What can I do for you?"

"Do not feign ignorance with me," I snarl. "You know precisely why I am here." She inclines her head, eyes calculating. "Is there something specific you seek, or do you simply hold no respect for the dead, looking to sate your curiosity by whatever means necessary?" I demand, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Leliana contemplates me for a moment before speaking. "Rhynn possessed very powerful weapons that we could make use of. This war would be over quickly if we were able to replicate them."

Something about her tone strikes me as odd. "I see," I grit my teeth in sudden understanding. "You already asked her for them… and she said no." The spymaster's gaze flickers subtly. Was I less skilled at reading people, I would certainly have missed it. "Rhynn placed great value on logic and practicality. If she refused your request, there was good reason for it," I tell her, words clipped. "You should have honored her decision!"

"Her weapons could save hundreds of lives," Leliana stands and places her hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Are you telling me she would not have wanted that?"

I take a step forward, arching my neck, lowering my head, and glaring. "Whatever Rhynn's reasons for denying you, they would have been for the good of all. Your blatant disregard of her wishes shows an appalling lack of respect for someone who sacrificed herself to _save lives_." My voice drops to a deadly whisper. "I advise that you refrain from further attempts at securing _any_ of her possessions. They will be untouchable from now on." _Calm yourself. Do not jeopardize your position here. It is too important._ I turn, back stiff, and descend the stairs, leaving Leliana to stare after me.

I sigh wearily as I re-enter my study, anger ebbing. In its wake comes bone-deep sorrow and a gripping loneliness I cannot shake. I carefully gather Rhynn's things and take them to my room, gently placing them in the large trunk that sits in the corner. I cast a complicated ward over it to keep her belongings safe – something I wish I could have done for the woman herself – and sink down onto the bed. _It should not have been you, Rhynn…_

                                                                                               

 

**Rhynn**

I come to in a small, white-walled room. I know the features of this place like the back of my hand. Not that that's a difficult thing to achieve; there's only a cot and a toilet to break the monotony. I am currently lying on said cot and I slowly sit up, head spinning as panic begins to sink in.

_Oh God, not again!_

I lift my shirt and, sure enough, there is a barely visible white line stretching across my abdomen. My breathing speeds up and I clutch at the mark.

_No, please no! How many times will they do this?! Please, God, take me away from this place!_

But God doesn't hear me anymore. That, or he no longer cares. I swing my legs over the edge of the cot and slowly stand. My limbs are weak and I stumble toward the one wall that isn't white, smacking into it. I assume it works like a two-way mirror and, even now, they continue to observe me. I scream until I'm hoarse and beat impotently at the glass-like material.

"JUST KILL ME ALREADY!" They probably don't understand a word I say.

My legs give out and I slide down it, clammy skin catching and squeaking along the way. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I begin to cry.

_No more… I can't take it!_

I hear the inner door opening and my head snaps up. A grey, fleshy figure slithers in and stops before me. It starts speaking nonsense, voice garbled by the mask it wears. I whimper and hide my head between my knees, slipping into happy memories in an attempt to block out reality.

 

_Dad sits at his desk, hunched over a sketchpad, pencil moving methodically across the paper._

_"Daddy," I tug at his shirt, "what are you drawing? Can I see?"_

_He sits up straight and looks down at me, eyes twinkling. "Hmm… I don't know. What do I get in return?"_

_I scrunch up my face in thought, then throw my hands in the air excitedly. "A kiss!"_

_Dad laughs and smiles. "Well, how could I refuse an offer like that?" He opens his arms and helps me climb into his lap. I grab his face and plant a loud kiss on his cheek, making him chuckle._

_I slap my hands onto the desk and lean in to examine Dad's drawing. My eyes widen and my mouth spreads into a smile. "That's me!" I point to the picture._

_"What?!" Dad asked, shocked, and peers over my shoulder. "I thought I was drawing a slimy snail!"_

_I giggle at him. "Dad, you're silly."_

_He grins. "One of us has to be, my little curmudgeon."_

_I make an exaggerated grumpy face and he does the same, then we both dissolve into laughter._

_I look back at the drawing. "How do you do this?" I point to a shaded area._

_"Do you want to learn?" Dad asks and I nod emphatically. "All right then." He flips to a blank page and outlines a person's head. Then he gives me the pencil and shows me how to shade, his hand guiding my own._

                                                                                                   

 

That weird buzzing feeling in my head started up again a few days ago. I'm not positive, but I think it means I'll be leaving soon.

_Please, God, let it mean that. I need to get away. Anywhere but here!_

But I don't have my things… and I need them! A plan begins forming in my mind. It's a shitty plan, but I've got nothing to lose, so I sit and wait.

One of them comes in at the usual time. At least I think it's the usual time. It's hard to tell here. It carries a plate of food, setting it on the floor and turning around. That's when I make my move.

Sneaking up behind it, I jump on its back and rip the mask from its face. I hop off and scurry backward, still clutching the object. The creature gasps and grabs at its throat, whirling on me and advancing. I dart out of reach and it's a good thing they're slow, or that wouldn't be possible in my current condition. I keep doing this until the thing collapses on the floor, struggling for a vital gas it will never inhale again.

As the creature lays dying, I crouch in a corner, smiling with vindictive glee. I wait for more of them to pour into the room or for a toxic compound to ooze in through the vents and kill me. But nothing happens. In a state of disbelief, I slowly rise and approach the dead one. I nudge it with my foot just to be sure, then kneel and begin searching for a key or card or something. Finally, I find it and move over to the door. The inner one is still open and I step through, shutting it behind me.

_Here goes nothing…_

I put the weird key stick in a hole, hold my breath, and press the button on the wall. Air whooshes around me and I hear the next door click. I push it open, expecting the worst. Again, nothing. I look around in confusion at the dark and empty room.

_Was that one in there the night shift or something?_

I examine the mechanism outside the door and learn how it works before making a quick pass through the room, looking for my things. I spot them laid out on a large table, but my lungs are beginning to complain, so I go back into my cell. After my heart has calmed its frantic pace, I leave again, walking directly over to the table, gathering my things, and shoving them into my bag. I have to repeat the whole process numerous times, making only a little progress with each trip. Not everything is here, and the few weapons left are in pieces, but the buzzing in my head is intensifying.

_I'm running out of time._

My violin has also been disassembled and that pisses me off. I place the pieces carefully back in their beat up, fabric-covered case and zip it shut. The static at the base of my skull is nearly overwhelming now, so I quickly sling my bag over my shoulder and grab the case, lungs screaming. My vision blurs and the world spins.

_Anywhere but here…_

                                                                                              

 

**Solas**

Varric is chattering about something as we trek through the Hinterlands, but I've tuned it out, uninterested. That is, until I hear a certain name.

"Pardon?" I ask, turning my full attention to him.

"I thought you might not be listening," Varric replies with a smirk and I scowl at the ground. "No need to get all moody, Chuckles, I'm just teasing. Back to what I was saying, though. I'm thinking of writing a book about Rhynn and I was hoping you could help fill in some of the details.

My frown deepens. "Betray her trust so that you may profit from the tragedy of her past? No, thank you."

Varric sighs and it's silent for a moment before he continues. "Hawke might not be alive now if it weren't for Rhynn. She deserves to have people know about her, remember her." I glance at the dwarf and find him looking unusually solemn. "Plus, I was considering using the money to publish some of those drawings she used for her lessons. From what I hear, it's pretty advanced compared to what most people here know. I figured she'd like that, more people learning that stuff."

"Yes," I agree, looking away to obscure the sudden emotions bubbling to the surface. "I believe she would." I compose myself and turn back. "I shall consider it."

Varric shrugs. "Good enough for me."

Blackwall, who has been chatting with the Inquisitor a few feet ahead, drops back to walk with us. "Rhynn was a good person," he shakes his head sadly. "She didn't deserve a fate like that." _No, she did not…_ Anger and sadness swirl in a confusing mix within me. "You know, she once asked me to fix that instrument of hers," Blackwall adds.

My gaze snaps to the Warden in surprise. "I… did not know that," I admit softly. _She never told me._

"Did you?" the Inquisitor asks, joining the conversation. "Help her, I mean."

"'Course I did," Blackwall replies. "Well, more like I sat there and did exactly what she told me to. She was very particular about that thing. I'm surprised she even let me touch it," he chuckles and the edge of my lips curves up slightly. _That certainly sounds like her._ He turns his attention to me, "Did she ever play it for you? It seemed like it would have an interesting sound."

"Ah," I breathe and avert my eyes for a moment. "No. I asked once, but there seemed to be… an unhappy memory attached to the concept." Not hearing her play is only one of many regrets I have concerning Rhynn.

Varric eventually interrupts the slightly awkward silence that followed my admission. "I'm not usually the type to talk about this kind of stuff, but you should know that it was obvious Rhynn cared a lot about you." I suck in a pained breath and my hands clench into fists, nails nearly breaking the skin of my palms.

Varric must sense my desire to be left alone, because I hear him start talking to Blackwall. "Hey Hero, I heard something interesting the other day about you and a serving girl. Care to elaborate?"

"Maker preserve me from curious dwarves…" the Warden grumbles.

I sigh and rub at my aching chest. _I care a great deal about her as well, Varric._

                                                                                               

 

**Rhynn**

"Rhynn…" A soft whisper pulls me into consciousness and my eyelids flutter. "Rhynnie, wake up." Only one person has ever called me that. My eyes fly open and I lift my head weakly, trying to focus. It takes a minute but… there he is…

"Mycah!" I rasp and try to sit up completely. He wraps an arm under my own to help and then keeps a hand on my shoulder to stabilize me once I'm upright. "Oh Mycah, I can't believe it!"

He grins crookedly, blue eyes warm. "Hey there, sis. How's it going?"

"Oh, you know," I shrug. "Same old, same old."

"So it's a normal thing for you to be trapped in the Fade, huh?" he chuckles.

_How does Mycah know about the Fade?_ The thought vanishes as quickly as it formed.

"Come on, let's get you up," he continues and puts an arm under mine again. "We need to get out of here."

I frown as he helps me stand. "Why?"

"I want to show you something," he replies.

"Ooh, what is it?" I ask excitedly.

"As impatient as ever, I see," Mycah remarks with a grin. "You'll just have to wait. It's a surprise."

"Aw, man," I whine as we begin walking. Well, shuffling in my case. _That's weird. Why won't my legs work?_ The thought dissolves. "At least tell me where we're going!"

"Just... away from here," Mycah glances around warily and it confuses me.

"What's going on, Myc?" I ask in a small voice, suddenly frightened, though I don't know why.

He rubs my arm soothingly, "It's going to be okay, Rhynn." He stops walking and so do I. "Do you trust me?" he asks suddenly, eyes imploring.

My brow furrows in confusion, "Of course I do! What kind of question is that?"

Mycah nods, "Good. Then let's keep moving."


	26. Perseverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* Reunited and it feels so good…
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine.

"Mycah, please, can't we rest for just a little while?" I plead. My feet feel like lead and my legs like jello.

My brother shakes his head, but allows me to lean on him a bit more. "We're almost there, Rhynn. Not too far now."

"I'm so tired…" I sigh, but continue to trudge forward. I still don't know where we're going and I'm not sure I even care anymore. Everything feels muted, muffled by a dense fog, and all I really want to do is lie down and sleep. Mycah won't allow me to, though, and I'm beginning to resent him for it.

A lifetime later, we finally stop and I sink to the ground, eyes already closing.

"Hey, hey!" Fingers snap in front of my face, startling me. "No falling asleep on me yet, Rhynnie."

"I always hated when you called me that," I grouse.

He grins widely, "I know."

I lick my dry lips and peer up at Mycah. "Do you have any water?"

"Oh! Yeah, just a sec," he moves out of my line of sight and returns, handing me a cup. I hum happily as the pleasantly cool water washes away a bitter taste in my mouth, one I didn't even realize was there until it's gone. "Better?" he asks and I hum again, nodding. As much as I want to gulp down the rest, I force myself to sip it, savoring. Mycah sits next to me, his body heat warming my right side.

I hand the cup back to him and rest my head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Myc."

"No problem. Why don't you get some rest now," he suggests.

"Fucking finally," I mumble, already half asleep.

                                                         

 

_"What is_ that _?!" I lean against the door frame and curl my lip._

_Mycah covers his chin self-consciously and turns away from the mirror he'd been gazing into. "None of your business, hellspawn. Get out of my room!"_

_"Is that a fucking soul patch?" I ask incredulously, raising an eyebrow._

_"Rhynnara! Language!" Dad yells from downstairs._ Stupid parent super-hearing…

_"Sorry!" I shout back, only somewhat sincere._

_Mycah still has a hand clamped over his chin, looking like a dweeb. "I just wanted to see what it would look like," he explains defensively._

_I step into the room, reaching out to grab his arm, "Let me see it."_

_"No!" he takes a step backwards, swatting my hand away. "You'll just make fun of it!"_

_I grin and shrug, "Probably. Let me see!" I lunge, grabbing his wrist and uncovering his chin. He slaps the other hand over it before I can get a good look, so I go after that one as well._

_"Get off of me, Rhynn!" he pushes my hands away, backing up, but I keep coming at him with a slightly wicked smile. "You're such a jerk!"_

_Finally, I get hold of both wrists, pulling them away from his face. "Hah!" I examine The Soul Patch and start to laugh. "What is that, like three hairs?"_

_Mycah tears his hands free and covers the lower half of his face with both of them. "See! I knew you were going to do that!" he mumbles through his fingers and tries to kick at my shins. I jump back, narrowly missing his bony feet._

_"Don't get your panties in a twist," I tease. "It's not that bad." Mycah's scowl softens a bit. "Maybe if you wish_ really _hard, you'll grow a fourth hair." His glare returns with force._

_I hear the stairs squeak and Dad calls out, "What in the world is going on up there?"_

_"Nothing, Daddy!" I reply sweetly._

_Dad scoffs and continues to climb the stairs, "Well, now I_ know _something's up." He comes in the room and takes in the scene, then looks at me. "Rhynn, quit teasing your brother about his facial hair." He turns his gaze to Mycah, pointing a finger at him, "And don't listen to your sister. She's a mean person."_

_"Hey!" I pretend to be offended. "You forgot spiteful!"_

_"Ah, yes," Dad deadpans. "How could I forget?"_

_"Senility is setting in."_

_"That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble someday," Dad chides jokingly._

_I throw my arms wide, grinning challengingly, "Bring it on!"_

_Dad shakes his head indulgently and turns back to Mycah. "Just give it time, bud. Soon, you'll be sporting a glorious beard like me." He strikes a pose, chin jutting out proudly._

_"Oh my God…" Mycah slaps a hand to his forehead in embarrassment._

_"Watch out, Mycah," I warn. "He'll start trying to live vicariously through you in an attempt to reclaim the glory days when he had a full head of hair."_

_"Oh!" Dad clutches his chest dramatically. "You wound me, child!" He runs a hand over his head. "It's just a thin spot."_

_I pat him on the shoulder on my way out, "You keep telling yourself that, Pops."_

_Dad laughs, "I've had about enough of your snark. Go wash the dishes or something."_

_I snort derisively, but go downstairs anyway to load the dishwasher._

                                                       

 

My eyes open slowly and I clumsily rub the sleep from them, yawning.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," a voice says from somewhere behind me. "Sort of."

I sit up slowly and stretch, blinking blearily at my surroundings. The visual input I'm receiving doesn't register for a few moments… and then it does. _The Fade… I'm still in the Fade._ But this isn't the area I remember being in. _Where's the giant spider carcass? The other bodies?_ My forehead wrinkles in confusion. Wherever I am now, it holds only a vague resemblance to The Nightmare's lair. There's still a lot of rock, some of it floating, and tons of green mist, but the air here feels… lighter, somehow. _I_ feel lighter.

"Rhynn?" a voice pulls me from my musings and I twist around, eyes wide. _There shouldn't be anyone here with me._ What I see then has me crying out and scrambling to my feet, backing away.

"You can't be here!" I point an accusing finger at the Mycah look-alike, voice tremulous. "You're not real! Get away!" Angry, anguished tears fall from my eyes as the creature stands, arms held out with palms turned upward.

"Please, Rhynn, calm down," it implores with my brother's voice. "I can explain."

"You are _not_ Mycah!" I screech, reaching for a rock to throw at it.

"Wait!" it implores, hands now held up defensively. "Please!" Light begins seeping between cracks in the thing's face, spreading until Mycah is gone. Before me stands a being of soft luminescence, a warm golden color that reminds me of an evening summer sun filtered through leaves. My jaw drops and I gasp. "You are correct." Its voice is quiet and steady and pleasing to the ears. "I am not your brother. I am a Spirit of Perseverance. I apologize if my guise offended you."

I stare, speechless for a long moment. "A spirit..?" I tilt my head, not understanding. "But how? _Why?_ "

"I heard your dreams and was drawn in by them. Your tenaciousness called to me and I became curious. But you were trapped in a dark, twisted place. I was not sure how to reach you, so I bided my time. You were fading away, though, clinging desperately to happier memories. I examined them and took on a form you would most trust. You are free, now, of The Nightmare's lingering influence." The spirit smiles at me and waits. _Is that why I was so tired?_

I blink at it, shocked. "You saved me?" I vaguely recall leaning on my brother as we walked.

Perseverance inclines its head, "I could not allow Fear to claim such an enduring light."

"Thank you," I breathe, bowing my head and willing away the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. "Thank you…" I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and look up. The spirit stands close now, eyes kind.

"It was my honor, Rhynn."

A comfortable silence settles over us for a few minutes before I sigh, "What do I do now?"

"You must find a way out of the Fade. You cannot remain here indefinitely," Perseverance answers calmly.

I laugh without humor. "I can't remain _anywhere_ indefinitely." The spirit just watches me quietly. "I suppose I could leave through any rift... there are plenty of them around right now," I give voice to my thoughts, then glance down at my midsection. The wound is just as ugly as usual. "I don't know what'll happen with this, though." I point to the hole. "I think I'm going to need immediate medical attention. So it can't be just any rift. I need to get in contact with my friends somehow…" I look around thoughtfully. "I need to get to Skyhold. Do you know which direction that's in?" I ask Perseverance, who is eyeing me curiously.

"Mortal, that is a very long journey for one such as yourself," it replies and I frown. "But I know the shortest route. Allow me to escort you."

Once again, I am struck speechless. "I… I… yes," I finally say. "Thank you." The words fall short in conveying the immense gratitude I feel toward this spirit.

                                                                    

 

It takes many days to reach Skyhold. During the journey, I get to know Perseverance a bit better. I ask a lot of questions, but the spirit seems happy to answer. It tells me stories of survivors it has witnessed and aided over its admittedly _very_ long lifetime and I find the tales fascinating. Perseverance questions me, as well. It most enjoys hearing of the times I pushed through when it seemed all hope was lost. Luckily for it, that's pretty much my entire life. This doesn't always make for the most pleasant of topics, but this being saved me and continues to help me, so I don't mind all that much.

We pass many dreamers along the way, but they don't notice us, too occupied by the scenes that play around them. It's a strange feeling, watching them, like entering a theater production halfway through while blindfolded. My own dreams are pleasant, though I recall that they were rarely so when I slept in Nightmare's realm. I try not to think about those ones, but sometimes they slip through and I won't talk for hours after the fact. Perseverance tries to get me to discuss them, but I _can't._

I am exhausted, both mentally and physically, by the time we arrive. Skyhold in the raw Fade is a strange amalgamation of ancient Elvhen structures and the fortress that stands there currently. It also just… feels different. I'm not sure how to categorize the sensation. Energy crackles over my skin and sets the little hairs on end. _Is this magic?_ If that is what I feel, it must be very strong for me to have sensed it.

Perseverance and I enter the lower courtyard. Or, what I imagine must be the lower courtyard. Things aren't exactly where they should be. There are many dreamers here, wrapped up in their own little worlds. Spirits flit to and fro, jumping from one dream to another. There are also a few demons, but despite this, the sight is mesmerizing and I pause to admire it.

"Do you know where your friends might be?" Perseverance asks, interrupting my reverie.

I nod and begin climbing the rocks to Skyhold's main hall. _Please be here…_ There are no doors leading to the rotunda, just large arches, and I peer in hesitantly. He's there, seated on the couch. _Solas!_ My heart thuds in my chest and a bright smile spreads across my face. Solas' dream is different than the others I've come across. It takes up more space and is less defined around the edges. I step closer, curious as to what he's dreaming of. That's when I notice there's someone else seated beside him. _Wait… that's me! What?_ The woman next to Solas is my doppelganger, minus the puncture wound, and it's really quite creepy.

Solas and other-me are talking, but their voices are muffled and I can't understand what they say. As I watch, his face slowly morphs into weary sadness. He bows his head and says something else, to which my clone nods and responds, then disappears. _What the hell?_ My eyes dart back to Solas and I take another step forward. Head in his hands, he sits there, unmoving. He looks tired, resigned, and… lonely. _What happened?_

The realization comes quickly and I feel ridiculous for not having pieced it together already. _He thinks I'm dead. Of course he does! The likelihood of my survival was slim to none, and I neglected to tell any of them about the explosive. Hell, I didn't even remember it myself until the last second._

Armed with this knowledge, I carefully enter Solas' dream. His reaction is immediate, having sensed me the moment I crossed the barrier. His head snaps up, face blank. And then, all at once, it crumbles into ruin.

"Rhynn…" he breathes, face switching between emotions so quickly I can't keep track of them all. "What…?" He pushes up from the couch slowly, staring at me as if I might disappear should he look away for one second.

"Um, he – " my voice cracks and I clear my throat. "Hey." I rub my forearm nervously. _How the hell do you talk to someone who thinks you're dead?_

The movement draws his gaze downward and his face contorts in horror. " _Fenehdis…_ " I'm confused at first, but then I remember the large hole in my stomach. _Oh…_ "How…? This is impossible!" he shakes his head slowly, disbelievingly, and looks into my eyes again, taking a step forward. His own eyes are glistening and the sight makes my chest constrict. "You cannot be here. Your spirit should not have lingered…" his words choke off and a tear slips free, rolling down his cheek.

_Oh, Solas…_ I move toward him and raise my hand, wiping away the wetness. He breathes in sharply at the touch, swallowing hard, posture rigid. More tears slip free, so I bring the other hand up to wipe those away too. Then I cup his face with both, looking directly into his eyes.

"I'm not dead," I tell him softly.

He glances down at my wound, expression guarded now. "Are you so sure?"

"Yes," I reply with conviction. "I don't know what's up with that thing," I nod at my stomach, "but I am very much alive."

Emotions flicker in his eyes, disbelief chief among them, as he slowly raises a hand and brushes just the fingertips across my cheekbone. He does it again, a bit firmer, and the dam breaks. With a sound like a wounded animal, he wraps his arms around me, crushes me to his chest, and burrows his face into my neck.

"Rhynn," he sighs into my skin, and the sound manages to encompass both despair and hope. The side of my neck feels damp and Solas is shaking slightly. I clutch at the fabric covering his back, my own breathing ragged. _Please let this be real!_ His hands stroke my hair, my back, my arms, as if making sure I'm not a figment of his imagination.

The whole thing is so overwhelming, I don't notice right away that Solas has begun pressing wet kisses to the base of my throat. His lips travel up my neck, then across my cheek before latching onto my own. I whimper into his mouth as he holds my head gently. The kiss is hard and desperate, both of us pouring out our jumbled emotions.

Solas' hands run down my back, feeling the curve of my spine. Until he brushes over the wound, freezing, then rearing back. He begins speaking in frantic elvhen, hands hovering over the ragged skin.

I can't understand most of what he says, but it's not hard to figure out what's wrong. "It's okay," I assure. "It doesn't hurt."

He takes a deep breath and pulls me into his arms again, pressing our foreheads together. " _Ir abelas_ , _lethal'lan_. This never would have happened had I not – " I press my fingers to his mouth, hushing him. "But… how did you manage to kill The Nightmare?" he asks after I move my hand.

"I had a powerful explosive with me. I blew its _fucking_ head off," I grin ferally.

Solas' face twists, "Why didn't you tell me about this explosive? I would not have – "

"I know, I know," I interrupt, "but I forgot about it until everyone was already through the rift." He sighs and closes his eyes, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. "I would very much like to get out of the Fade now," I continue a moment later and Solas pulls back.

"Of course. Wait outside Skyhold, on the other side of the bridge. I shall wake the Inquisitor and have her open a rift there." He releases me and takes a step backward.

"Wait!" I call, reaching out. Solas moves forward again, grasping my hand and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "I… don't know what this wound is going to do when I leave here…" I'm suddenly terrified. After everything that's happened, this could be the end. _My_ end.

He leans in and kisses me again, just once. "I'll be ready," he promises and then disappears.

My pulse jumps in panic that I quickly bury. Solas' cozy study dissolves, leaving only a round room with rock walls.

"You did not tell me you are friends with Fen'Harel." I glance over my shoulder to find Perseverance watching me.

I turn around fully and approach it. "I didn't realize that was something I should have shared."

"It is not, I suppose. I was simply making an observation. Will you be leaving the Fade now?" it asks, head cocked.

"Yeah, the Inquisitor is going to open a rift outside of Skyhold," I explain, then frown. "You probably shouldn't be nearby when that happens. I don't know what rifts do to spirits."

"Then this is where we part ways," it states. "Perhaps we will see one another again someday."

"Perhaps," I smile slightly. "Thank you again. I won't forget what you've done for me."

"Thank _you_ for sharing your stories. Farewell," Perseverance gives a small bow and vanishes.

On shaky legs, I make my way to the designated location. I sit, arms wrapped around my legs, and wait. My heart refuses to slow, as scared as I am. _I don't want to die._

A loud crack startles me and I jump to my feet, watching as a tear starts to form midair not far from where I stand. The rift widens and a figure comes through, walking quickly towards me. _Solas._ I move to meet him and we embrace. I sigh with sharp relief before he pulls away.

"Lie down," Solas instructs. "I'm going to heal you in here." I do as he says, laying on my back and watching as he kneels beside me. His hands begin to glow and he holds them over my abdomen. After a long moment, his eyebrows furrow. "It's… not working," he says, worry coloring his tone.

My heart begins to race again and cold sweat trickles down my neck. "W-what do you mean?" My breathing accelerates and my vision blurs.

"Rhynn, look at me," Solas commands and my eyes snap to his, seeking an anchor in the storm of my terror. "You are going to be all right." He sounds so sure, and I want to believe him, but… "There are more healers waiting outside. You'll be fine." He helps me up and leads me to the rift, stepping through and then turning back to offer his hand. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and follow.

Shrieking agony rips through my torso, spreading outward. I scream once before everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenehdis: curse word meaning 'wolf penis.'


	27. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is Bioware's property.

Consciousness returns slowly, trickling into the darkness. Sound comes first, muffled voices and the clamor of life getting louder with each passing second. As the fog of sleep recedes, I become aware of my body once again. Stiff linen brushes my bare skin and a slight breeze teases the small hairs at my temple. Something constricting is wrapped around my middle, drawing attention there. As soon as I focus on it, sharp pain blossoms on the left side and I stiffen, flexing my hands and groaning. Something squeezes my right hand and it's enough to momentarily distract me. My eyelids flutter, trying to open. _Where am I?_ A muted light is all I can see at first and I blink lazily, struggling to focus.

"Rhynn," my eyes roll in their gritty sockets until they land on the source of that soothing voice. Bald head, sharp features, wide-set blue orbs.

"Hi," I rasp and he smiles softly.

"Hello," he brings my fingers to his mouth and caresses them with his lips.

I run my tongue over grimy teeth, "Where…?"

"The clinic," Solas replies, setting my hand down gently. I recall the moments before I stepped through the rift and feel my face pinch.

"How long?" My voice is like wet gravel. Solas' smile drops.

"It has been… a difficult three days. I am glad to see you awake." His thumb caresses the palm of my hand and the sensation is distracting.

"Difficult…?" I frown, confused.

Solas sighs and looks down out our entwined hands. "I was able to stop the bleeding and repair most of the major damage, but the wound is… strangely resistant to healing magic." He looks utterly exhausted, shoulders slumped and dark circles lining his eyes.

"Have you slept?" I ask, brows furrowed. _Don't tell me he's spent the whole time on me. He said there were other healers!_

Solas' head snaps up, forehead wrinkled with concern. "You do not remember?"

I give him a strange look. "What?"

He looks sad and worried. " _Lethal'lan_ , I visited you in the Fade…"

_Faces. So many faces. Burnt, blistered, rotted, diseased, masked. They gather round me, taunt me, tear at my soul. I scream until my voice gives out. Then I sit silently, become a rock; unfeeling, unmoved. Time passes and they still mock. Footfalls behind me and they're gone, carried away by the breeze. A familiar voice and hands on my face, but I can't get my lips to move. Don't look at me, don't look at me. Then fur brushes my arm and a comforting warmth surrounds me. I lean back, digging my fingers into the coat, clinging. Don't leave me here._

There are hands on me now and that same gentle voice. "Hush, Rhynn, you're safe." I become aware of my pulse and breathing, too fast and light, and try to slow them. Solas is leaning over the cot, examining my face and stroking his thumbs over my cheekbones. I make eye contact and the lines on his forehead disappear. "There you are."

Shame fills me and I avert my gaze, pulling my head from his grasp. "Go get some rest, Solas," I say quietly, eyes fixed determinedly on the tent wall.

He doesn't respond for a long moment, then lips press lightly to my temple. "As you say." He gives my hand one last squeeze before pulling away and leaving me to my dark thoughts.

I don't sleep that night. Nor the next.

                                                              

 

A few days later, I'm moved to a real bedroom. Not the one I had before; that would be too difficult to reach in my condition. It's quite the production, two healers carrying me on a stretcher through Skyhold. _More like really fucking embarrassing._

The bed is fairly comfortable, but my back aches from laying down for so long. Not much can be done about it, though, with my insides still so messed up.

Solas sets my bag and violin in the corner and approaches. "Are you comfortable?" He adjusts the blankets over my lap. _Thank you, Nurse Dread Wolf_.

I smile wryly, "As much as I can be under the circumstances." He inclines his head, lips quirking. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck. "It's a bit hot in here, though," I fan my face.

Solas looks confused, then concerned. He reaches out and lays the back of his hand across my forehead. His frown deepens. "You have a fever," he states.

I don't need a medical education to do the math: gut wound plus infection equals very bad news. My face matches Solas' as I point at my bag in the corner. "Bring that over here, will you?"

His head tilts curiously, but he does as I ask, grabbing the pack and setting it next to me. I rummage through, pulling out a sturdy metal box. "Can you boil some water for me, please?"

The poor guy looks even more confused but goes over to the fire. Meanwhile, I lift the lid on my medkit and pull out a small case, setting the larger box aside. I snap open the case and remove the hypodermic needle from its foam bed, checking it over. It's a bit gross to think I last used this on someone else. _Time to sterilize the hell out of this thing._

An iron kettle hangs over the fire now and Solas turns back to me. "I also need alcohol," I state, holding one of the little medicine bottles up to the light. _Not much left…_

"I hardly think drinking is wise at the moment," he jokes, leaning against the mantle.

"Thanks, smartass. It's to sterilize this," I hold up the needle and he takes a step closer.

"What is that?" He's tilting his head back and forth, examining the object from all angles. It's kind of adorable.

I can't help the small grin that appears on my lips. "Bring me booze and I'll answer your questions, curious creature."

The tips of his ears turn slightly pink, but he smiles and sweeps into a low bow. "Right away, _'ma fenor_." He leaves and I stare at the doorway, bemused.

_My precious?_ I get the sudden mental image of Solas crouched over me, petting my hair like Golem with the One Ring. I laugh loudly at that, snorting, but the act pulls on my stomach wound, quickly putting an end to the amusement. "Ow, fuck!"

Solas returns quickly, giving me a strange look when I giggle into my hand. _God, I need sleep._ I swallow down my laughter. "Alright, can you pour some of that into a cup?" I gesture toward the bottle in his hands and he nods, doing just that and looking at me expectantly.

I hold the syringe out to him. "Draw some of the boiling water into this, like so," I demonstrate by pulling up on the plunger. "Hold as much of this thing as you can in the water for about five minutes, then squirt the water back out," I push down.

Solas takes the syringe, humming and turning it over in his hands. "Interesting…" He walks over to the fire.

"Make sure you don't touch the needle afterwards," I warn.

He gives me a look over his shoulder, "I know, Rhynn."

I cringe a bit, "Right, sorry."

All I see for the next few minutes is his back as he works. I take the opportunity presented to me and admire that glorious physique. His ass is covered by the ridiculous sweater with the flaps, but it hugs the muscles of his back, showing off that perfect shoulder to waist ratio. My gaze travels down, following the lines of his long, powerful legs. I imagine myself coming up behind him, wrapping my arms around that lean waist, and pressing myself against –

"Enjoying the view?"

I freeze, blushing profusely, eyes wide, but he doesn't turn around. In fact, I'm pretty sure he hasn't so much as glanced my way at all. I narrow my eyes. _You can't prove a thing, Fen._ I look down at my lap, pretending to be occupied with the contents of the bottles, just in case. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He just chuckles smugly, turning around a moment later. "Now I repeat the process using alcohol?" he guesses.

"Mhmm," I don't look up, face still hot. _Wow, these bottles are fascinating._ While I wait, I pull out a strip of cloth from the medkit and tie it tightly around my upper left arm using the other hand and my teeth. I stare at the crease of my elbow, searching for the vein. After a few seconds, it shows up, greenish-blue.

Solas moves to my side, syringe held aloft, looking like he's about to burst with questions. "I admit, I am quite curious what this is all for."

"The sterilization or the needle itself?" I ask, amused.

"Both. Everything," he answers eagerly and I take the syringe from him, laughing.

"Alright, remember what I said about the really small stuff that you need a microscope to see?" He nods. "They're not just on or in the body, but everywhere. They're called bacteria and they are living creatures."

Solas' eyebrows raise in surprise, "Truly?"

"Yeah," I smile. "Some are good for people, but some are really bad. I'd rather not take any chances, so we kill them all." I wiggle the syringe, then purse my lips. "Well, as many as possible."

"How hard can it be to kill something so small?" Solas asks incredulously.

"You'd be surprised. A lot of them have ways to protect themselves. Plus, there could be billions on just my hand alone," I inform and his eyebrows somehow climb higher.

"You must be exaggerating," I shake my head, smirking. "That is… incredible!" he exclaims. "I wish I could see them. I assume they are like animals, considering how nonchalant you are about exterminating them." His eyes are alight with the new knowledge, and at the prospect of more.

"I suppose I'll have to work on making that microscope," I pull out the bottle I want and remove the cap, sticking the syringe in and drawing up the correct amount. "And yes; they're the most basic type of lifeforms." As he processes this new information, I flick the air out of the needle.

I hand a rag to Solas. "Can you dip this in the alcohol please?" He does so and I wipe down the crease of my elbow. I hold my arm out to show him. "Do you see this vein here?" He nods, leaning in. "I'm going to put this needle in it and inject the medicine. My bloodstream will carry it throughout my body and, most importantly, to the site of infection."

"This is fascinating," Solas whispers, watching rapturously as I insert the needle and depress the plunger. When I remove it, a bit of blood seeps out, so I untie the cloth around my arm and press it to the spot. "What was the substance you injected?"

"Antibiotics," I reply. "They kill bacteria. The kind I used is pretty effective and should take care of my infection."

Solas looks thoughtful as he straightens up, "Is this a common practice on Earth?"

I nod, "Yeah. Maybe a little too common." His expression changes to one of confusion and I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

"Your world seems a wondrous place to live."

I shrug, face scrunching. "We have a lot of good stuff, yeah, but a lot of bad too."

"That is likely true of most worlds," Solas speculates. "In my experience, the majority of people are power-hungry and corruptible, looking only to further their own gains. Those in power rarely hold to original ideals and the common people are forced to suffer the consequences." He looks down at the bed, unseeing, years away.

"And then someone comes along and shakes things up," I quietly interrupt his thoughts and his eyes, old and tinged with sorrow, meet my own.

"Not always for the better," his gaze is intense, filled with questions I don't know the answers to.

I purse my lips, frowning. "Should a corrupt government just be allowed to continue, then?"

"Of course not," he replies assuredly, but begins moving in place restlessly, agitated. "There must have been some other way, though…" The last sentence is quiet, almost to himself, and he no longer looks at me.

"Maybe, maybe not, but it is what it is," I reach out and place a hand on his forearm. "No point in torturing yourself with the what-ifs. Trust me on that."

His focus snaps back to me, face unreadable. He lifts a hand to my face, gently brushing the hair out of my eyes, then cupping my cheek. "You are a rare spirit, _lethal'lan_. I am grateful to have met you." His expression softens, eyes fond. So blatantly fond, in fact, that I have to break eye contact, pulling my hand back to pick at the blanket on my lap.

A shy, pleased smile tugs at my lips. "You too," I mumble awkwardly, covering his hand with my own. I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his palm, and the moment stretches out for a bit longer before he pulls back. Solas takes the needle still in my left hand and goes through the sterilization process again without me asking. I put the clean syringe back in its case and pack everything away in my bag, which he then takes from me and places in the corner.

"You should sleep now," Solas suggests and my ribcage suddenly feels too small.

"I… I can't," I shake my head, gripping the blanket tightly.

He sighs, frustrated, "You need rest to recover, Rhynn." A pause. "You will not be alone. I will find you as soon as you enter the Fade." My heart palpitates at the very word.

I squeeze my eyes shut, jaw clenched. "Please," I grit out. "I can't."

Hands pry my own free from the covers and rub them comfortingly. "You cannot remain awake forever."

"I know." I feel like a cracked glass figurine one tap from shattering.

Despite my determination, I cannot stave off sleep that night.

                                                          

 

I open my eyes to white walls and swear my heart stops. _No! Please no!_ My head feels too cold, too light, and I lift a hand up to touch it. My long hair is gone, buzzed short, and I _know_ what that means.

I scream in wordless anger, frustration, and terror, thrashing where I lay and clawing at my own skin. I clamber off and grab the edges of the cot, swinging the makeshift bed around and throwing it at the glass wall with all my strength. It makes a satisfying crash, one of the legs snapping. An untouched food tray sits nearby, so I throw that too, grey slop splattering everywhere. I grin madly, imagining that it's brain matter, and start cackling. I kick at the ruined cot until my feet bleed, then pick up the broken leg and beat at the glass with it.

"Rhynn!"

I ignore it. Just another voice in my head. _Welcome to the madhouse!_

Arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the wall. I kick and twist, screaming and trying to get free, "Let me go!" When I realize the grip can't be broken, I sag, defeated. "Please," I whimper, "let me go…"

A voice keeps whispering in my ear, but the words aren't important anymore. Nothing is. The inner door groans and I see grey, flabby skin. A gasp, and the arms finally release me. I sink to the floor, curling up in a ball and sobbing.

A few heartbeats later, a hand runs through my hair and down my back. _Hair…?_ I come back to myself a little. Someone is kneeling in front of me.

"It was not real. Open your eyes now, Rhynn," I tug at my regrown hair, but my hands are pulled away and held gently. "Look at me," the person coaxes.

I open my eyes hesitantly; the ground is no longer hard and white, but soft and woven. There are a pair of fabric-clad knees in front of me. I follow them up to legs, then a waist, shoulders, and finally a head. "Solas," the name is barely audible as it leaves my lips.

"I'm here," he assures softly.

Against my will, I start to cry again, heaving sobs that wrack my body. Solas wraps his arms around me once again and I am pulled tightly to his chest. I hold on for dear life, irrationally afraid that if I let go, I'll tumble back into the dark.

"Why me?!" I shout angrily at him, the universe, no one. "Why me…?"

Solas doesn't answer – I doubt anyone could – but his lips press into the top of my head… and that's something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public service announcement: Don't share needles, kiddos. That's nasty. We'll have to forgive Rhynn, though. She didn't have much choice.


	28. Enough is enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I’m going to slow down my posting schedule just a bit. Every other day or so, instead of every day. I needed a break, but forced the last chapter out anyways and I’m really not happy with it. I might go back later and fix some stuff. 
> 
> Credit to Capri for Rhynn’s nickname. I’m not sure if it’s what I’ll stick with, but Varric and I are trying it out lol. 
> 
> One of my reviewers on ff.net mentioned something important. Rhynn would need to be careful, lying in bed day after day. I couldn’t fit it into the chapter, but imagine that she would take care not to get bed sores and whatnot. She’s not going to be confined to bed rest for too long, but yeah.

I'm just staring at the wall, most likely drooling on myself, when Varric knocks on the door frame and pokes his head in.

"You awake in here, Princess?"

"Barely," I sit up a bit more, excited to have a visitor. Being confined to bed rest is about as exciting as it sounds. "And Princess? Really?" I make a face.

Varric chuckles, "Well, you did slay a powerful Fear demon in its own lair. Doesn't that make you the new ruler or something? Plus, I know how much you like frilly things."

"But _Princess?_ " my nose wrinkles. "Couldn't it be Queen instead?"

"Hmm…" he pretends to think, scratching the scruff on his chin. "Nah, you're not graceful enough."

I clutch my chest dramatically, "That hurts, Varric."

"Truth hurts," he shrugs and I give a small smile. "Anyway, I had a reason for visiting." A book appears from behind his back and he sets it on the covers over my lap. "Figured you might be a bit bored just sitting here, especially with Chuckles gone."

 _Varric brought me something to read? That's so thoughtful!_ I pick the book up and examine the flashy cover. _Hard in Hightown… Wait, seriously?_ I flip it over and, sure enough, there's a picture of a grinning Varric Tethras on the back, chest hair proudly displayed.

I give the author a flat look. "You brought me one of your own books?"

Varric grins roguishly, "Let it never be said that I won't shamelessly self-promote under _any_ circumstances." I have to laugh at that, even if it's a bit half-hearted. Varric's grin fades. "Hey, you okay?"

I thumb the book's pages restlessly, not making eye contact. "Just, uh… nightmares. Can't sleep well," I mumble.

I hear a hum and a large hand snatches the book from my lap. "You know what, I'll read you the first couple of chapters. Give you a feel for the characters." He pulls a chair over and sits down, flipping to the first page, and beginning, "They say coin never sleeps…"

 _Thank you, Varric._ I lean back against the pillows, feeling a little more at ease.

Later that night, my attempt at sleep goes about as well as usual. I wake up screaming, dripping with sweat. Falling back asleep is about the last thing I want to do, so I snatch Varric's book off the bedside table and spend the rest of the night lost in its pages.

                                                             

 

The Inquisitor's return means Solas' return, which means the return of actual sleep for me. The bald elf takes one look at my dark circles and bloodshot eyes and declares it an early night for both of us.

I try to hide my shock when, instead of leaving for his own room, Solas crawls into bed with me. _Um, hello there._ I must not be all that successful, because he props himself up and examines me shrewdly.

"Does this make you uncomfortable?" I see his lips twitch, giving away his amusement.

"No," I cock an eyebrow. "It's just surprising, that's all." _And exciting. Maybe a bit arousing._ It's both a relief and a disappointment that I'm no longer naked under the covers, but if it weren't for this damn stomach wound, I'd throw a leg over and straddle him, just to see the look on his face.

Instead, I slide my foot across and run my toes playfully along his leg. Solas' eyes dance and he leans over to capture my lips in a passionate but restrained kiss. Despite holding back, we're both breathing harder by the end and Solas' fingers have dipped into the collar of my baggy nightshirt.

"You'll probably still be able to fall asleep right away, won't you?" I pant.

"I have had much practice," he replies distractedly, staring at my mouth.

"Oh, have you now?" I tease.

Solas snaps out of his trance and rolls his eyes at me. "You know what I meant, Rhynn." I just smirk and his eyes soften. He lays back on the pillows and grabs my hand, twining our fingers together. "I'll be waiting for you," he promises before his eyes close and his breathing deepens.

I try to relax, reassuring myself. _It's going to be okay. Solas will be there._

**_He's not always going to be around to chase away the nightmares._ **

_Maybe not, but he's here tonight._

It takes a while, but I eventually slip into unconsciousness.

                                                             

 

Many nights pass where Solas keeps the terrors at bay. Each time, I become a bit more disgusted with my fear and a bit more disappointed in myself. Though I know Solas helps out of affection for me, not pity, I am still ashamed. I've done just fine on my own for nearly ten years now. I shouldn't need someone else to handle my problems for me.

So tonight, as Solas slips off his vest, back to me, I come to a decision.

"I don't want you to help me tonight," I say quietly, fear causing my voice to warble.

Solas turns around, vest still clutched in his hands, eyes narrowed and head tilted in confusion. "May I ask why?"

My eyebrows snap together, anger at myself bubbling to the surface. "I _hate_ being weak," he opens his mouth to speak and I raise a hand to stop him. "There are things I've left to fester for many years. Ignoring them was easier, especially when I had more important things to focus on." I pause, taking a steadying breath. "That's just an excuse, really. What happened to me… I'm sure you've been able to deduce some of it." He inclines his head, eyes sad. "It broke me. I'm… not exactly sane, Solas," I admit.

"I do not know of a single person that can truly be described as such," he interjects, setting his vest aside and climbing atop the bed.

I laugh once without humor. "Maybe… but really. Sometimes I… I hear a voice in my head." _The alien is crazy. Imagine that._

Solas sits cross-legged above the covers, watching me thoughtfully. "Have you considered that this voice might be – "

"Yes," I interrupt. "I wished _so badly_ that it was something… someone to help me… but no." I shake my head vehemently, looking down at my lap. "My mind is just broken."

Two fingers pressed to the underside of my chin draw my eyes back up. "What is broken may be mended," he insists softly.

"I know," I reply, laying my hand on his arm. "That's why I need to do this. It's time I face my fears." Solas looks oddly proud as he presses a kiss to my forehead. "But… I'd like it if you were still there," I continue.

"Of course, Rhynn," he settles beside me, arms under his head. When I wiggle closer and lay my own head on his bicep, he brings a hand down to rest on my shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you, as always."

I let out a shuddering breath, trembling with nervousness, and he holds me tighter.

                                                              

 

The dream starts in the typical fashion, coming to in that mind-numbing whiteness. I feel the all-consuming panic wash over me, making me forget my goal. That is, until a certain elf waltzes in and pulls me into an embrace.

Eventually, my mind clears and I gently push away. Solas nods encouragingly and I stand, just as the inner door opens. I clench my fists and turn to face one of the beings that has plagued me for so long. Its flabby skin ripples as it approaches and I move to meet it, trying to ignore the way my legs shake and my heart races.

The creature gurgles at me and I pour all of the hatred I feel into a glare. "I know what you are," I state through gritted teeth. "I know you're just a spirit, acting out my dreams… probably a demon, considering this is a nightmare." I take a determined step closer. "But I'm going to pretend you're real for a minute. Hope you don't mind," I say mockingly.

A pause, and then I begin. "Your kind kept me locked in this God-forsaken room for so long, with its white walls and _two fucking pieces of furniture_!" My face burns with the force of my anger and resentment. "You poked and prodded at me, cut me open and did God knows what! And all I was left with were barely-visible scars and the knowledge that I'd been violated beyond measure!" I suck in a harsh breath and take another step forward.

"It's because of you that I wondered whether my thoughts were even my own anymore! It's because of _you_ that I will probably never be able to have a child! Whether I ever wanted that or not, _you took that choice away from me_!" I screech, tears running freely from my eyes. "You've done enough! I've allowed your hold over me for too long!" I grab the mask on its face and stare into its soulless eyes.

" _I refuse to fear you any longer_." I want so badly to rip the mask off and watch the thing suffocate to death one last time… but I don't. " _Leave,"_ I hiss, dropping my hand.

After a long, tense moment, the alien visage dissolves to be replaced by that of a demon. Then the scene fades, along with the spirit. I stare at the place it once stood, wiping the wetness from my cheeks and attempting to calm down. Warm, slender hands caress my shoulders, slide down my arms, and wrap around my waist.

" _Ir abelas, lethal'lan_ ," Solas' voice sounds strained in my ear as he pulls me tightly to his chest. "You are stronger than I ever thought possible."

I take comfort in his embrace, closing my eyes and leaning my head back onto his shoulder. I lay my hands over his own on my stomach and just breathe. Eventually, I turn in his arms and pull him in for a kiss. I devour his lips, holding him in place with two hands fisted in the collar of his sweater. It's a short kiss, but one filled with all the things I don't quite know how to express with words.

I pull back with a ridiculous wet smack. A victorious grin splits my face, the first truly genuine one to grace my mouth since before Adamant. "So…" I walk my fingers up Solas' chest and press one into the dimple on his chin. "The night is young still. What shall we do, _'ma fen_?"

Solas returns my smile, eyes shining with relief and amusement. "I know just the thing. Close your eyes."

I do as he says and feel the rough rock beneath my feet change to something soft and springy. When he tells me to open my eyes, I pull back, glancing around in wonder. We're standing in a grassy meadow, hemmed by forest and crumbling arches.

"It's beautiful," I tell him, walking over and trailing my fingers along the ancient stone.

"This is a place I found some time ago. I am still unsure of its history, despite extensive searches of the Fade." Solas bends over and plucks a wildflower, then walks over and tucks it behind my ear. "But I, too, found myself in awe of its natural splendor." He smiles at me softly.

The romantic gesture makes me feel giddy and awkward. "This thing probably has bugs on it." _Oh my God, Rhynn._

Solas barks out a laugh, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Things are certain to always be interesting with you."

I snort, "I don't think you'd know what to do if I cooed and sighed and batted my eyelashes."

"I was not aware that was something you knew how to do," he raises a challenging eyebrow, hands clasped behind his back.

 _Well, I can't just let that one go._ I smirk internally, stepping closer until our bodies are centimeters apart, just brushing with each inhale. I pluck the wolf jawbone from his chest, examining it for a moment and caressing it with my thumb. I tighten my grip and glance up at Solas through my lashes, parting my lips and fluttering my eyelids a bit. I hear him inhale, his own eyelids lowering as he leans in. With our mouths about to meet, I pull away, letting go of the necklace and sauntering past him. I hear a breathy chuckle behind me, and when I glance back, he's watching me hungrily, eyes flashing with excitement. I face forward again and smirk outwardly with satisfaction.

The air is warm and the sunlight makes my current clothing feel somewhat stifling. I close my eyes and picture myself in a pair of shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. It takes a while, but I know right away when it works. More comfortable now, I lay down in the grass and soak up the sun. It may not be real, but it feels fantastic.

"An interesting choice of attire." I hear the grass rustle as Solas approaches and look over to see him silhouetted against the sky. He sits beside me, stretching out and propping himself up with his elbows.

As I watch, the many layers covering his torso disappear, leaving his chest bare. _Somebody's gone without sunlight for too long, but… fuck yes!_ I take in the sight with an obvious grin on my face. Solas doesn't look at me, but I get the feeling he just _knows_. Eyes closed, he tilts his head back, exposing the long column of his throat. The urge to lick it is strong, and I feel wetness pool between my thighs at the thought alone.

I tear my eyes away, desperately trying to remember what he said last. _Oh, right!_ "Am I making you nervous, showing all this leg?" I tease, kicking one straight up from where I lay.

"Hardly," he glances at me sideways, eyes dragging lazily over my body, from the toes wiggling in the air to my head. _Not even a little bit fair._ I try not to squirm.

I last for five long minutes before rolling to my knees and crawling over. Solas opens one eye and watches me curiously. I sit cross-legged next to him, my knees touching his side, and reach out a hand to trail my fingertips over his stomach. The muscles beneath jump and I hear him gasp quietly, both eyes closed again and lips parted. I press the palm of my hand to his skin and smooth it upward between his pectorals. He lays down completely when I lightly rake my nails back to his navel.

As I skim a finger from one hip to the other, just above his pants, those blue eyes snap open to watch. I'm keenly aware of the growing bulge in his trousers, but dragging this out is much too fun. I rise to my knees and place a hand on either side of his torso, leaning down to pepper kisses over his lower stomach. Fingers thread into my hair and I pause to grin up at him wickedly. Solas lets out a gust of breath and drops his head to the ground, throwing the other arm over his face.

I lick and kiss and nibble a path up his chest. When I reach his collar bones, I lift my leg over and straddle his waist. Starting at the lobe, I drag my tongue along the edge of one ear, then close my mouth around the tip and suck. Solas cries out, grabbing my hips and pressing them down at the same time that he thrusts up. It's been so long since I've done any of this and the sensations are overwhelming. I release his ear to moan loudly, rocking against him. Solas rolls us over, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the ground on either side of my head.

"You make me want to lose all control," he whispers breathlessly, nuzzling my chin out of the way to nip at my neck, then soothing the spot with the flat of his tongue. I squirm beneath him, seeking friction of any kind. Every time my hips come close to making contact with his, though, Solas shifts them out of reach.

"Solas," I groan, frustrated, but he just chuckles and skims his teeth over the top of my right breast.

Solas has released my wrists and is in the process of snaking a hand under my shirt when something strange steals my attention. It feels as if a weight is resting across the top of my thighs, but that doesn't make sense… Solas' hips are _between_ them.

Having sensed my distraction, Solas pauses and looks up at me. "Is something wrong, Rhynn?"

"I… don't know," I answer truthfully, frowning.

Before anything more can be said, I wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm… I wonder what woke her up…
> 
> 'Ma fen: my wolf


	29. You don't want that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Just a warning, Rhynn talks about guns on Earth and all the crap that comes with that in the last part of this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

The first thing I see upon waking is a dark shape lurking over me. I react without thinking, fist flying forward. The shape, which I now realize is a person, bends backwards Matrix-style to avoid the punch.

"Shite!" they exclaim, straightening. "What was _that_ for?"

 _Sera…?_ "What the fuck?" I slur, rubbing at my eyes.

"I know, right? You always punch people when you wake up? Elfy better watch it," she jerks a thumb to my left where Solas is just starting to wake up.

Sera is straddling my thighs, hands on her hips, and I am _so_ confused. "Sera, how the hell did you get in here? Wasn't the door locked?" I _know_ it was. I remember asking Solas to lock it because I like knowing I'm safe before I go to sleep. _So much for that._

"Pfft!" she makes a face. "If that's what you wanna call it. Might as well've left it wide open. Too easy."

Solas, who is laying on his right side, pries one eye open then promptly closes it again. He groans and rolls onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillows. _Thanks for the help, Fen_. _Much appreciated._

I look back at Sera, "But… _why_ are you here?"

Her eyes narrow and she leans forward. "You're confusing."

"My apologies," I deadpan and hear a muffled noise from the lump next to me.

Sera ignores us both. "You pop out of nowhere, knowing all this shite about stuff. And then one day… BAM!" she smacks her hands together loudly. "Suddenly it's 'I know all your dirty little secrets' and other crap _nobody_ should know." She glares, arms crossed. "I don't like people knowing my secrets unless _I_ tell them. Then there's all this weird-arse crap about you being from another world. I don't even wanna think about it!" Sera shakes her head vehemently. "And o'course, you get buddy-buddy with the elfiest elf of them all. He probably gets off on it all."

Solas scoffs, turning his head slightly toward her. "Really, Sera. Kindly remove yourself from the room."

She ignores him again. "But I've been watching you," she points at me. I should probably be more concerned about that than I am. "You don't give a tit's arse about who's what. You treat everyone the same. And you help people. People-people, I mean. So I've decided you're all right," she declares, sitting back.

"Uh… thanks?" _I'm not awake enough for this._

"This could not have waited until a more appropriate time and place?" Solas asks impatiently.

Sera shrugs, unapologetic. "Probably." Then her eyes narrow suspiciously at us. "Wait, you two weren't bumping bits in the Fade or somethin', right?"

 _Oh, I really shouldn't…_ I smirk anyways, speaking up before Solas can. "Well…"

Nose wrinkled and lip curled, Sera makes a disgusted noise and quickly clambers off my lap.

"In fact," I continue, "right before you woke me up, Solas had his mouth on my – "

"I can't hear you! La, la, la, la, la!" Sera makes her escape, shutting the door behind her.

" – stomach," I finish, grinning, then look over at Solas. He rolls onto his side again, eyes crinkled with amusement. "Well, that was weird."

"Indeed," he agrees. "Perhaps it would be prudent to cast a ward over the door in the future." _So this whole sleeping in the same bed deal is a permanent thing? Hmm._ "How are you feeling, _lethal'lan_?" he asks, gesturing toward my abdomen.

I push down the covers and lift my shirt up just enough to see the wound. It's still fairly gnarly looking. The outer edges are bumpy and puckered, but the center is pink and new and tender. I poke at it and shrug. "I'm fine. It still aches a bit, but it's a lot better."

Solas sits up, hands beginning to glow with power. "May I?"

I gesture for him to go ahead, laying my head back down on the pillows. He holds his hands directly above the injury, sending pulses of magic below the skin. It feels warm and strange, but I trust that he knows what he's doing.

"You know, that still amazes me," I remark, staring at his shimmering fingers.

"Magic?" he clarifies and I nod. "Is it uncommon in your world?"

"It doesn't exist," I correct and he stops to stare at me.

"At all?" both eyebrows creep upward in surprise.

I shake my head, "Nope."

Solas looks down at his lap, frowning. "That is… a difficult concept to comprehend."

"I suppose it would be for someone who grew up surrounded by magic," my lips quirk slightly. "But that's just the way things are on Earth. We use technology to do the things that magic might have."

Solas goes back to healing my insides. "Perhaps there was once a time when your people practiced magic," he theorizes and I hum thoughtfully. He casts me a curious glance and I chuckle.

"There was a time I would have scoffed at that," I explain, "but after everything I've seen and experienced, I can't completely discount it." I huff, "If there's anything I know for sure, it's that I know nothing for sure."

Solas inclines his head in agreement. "Wise words."

                                                            

 

I enter the rotunda to find Solas sitting at his desk, reading. _What a shocker._ He glances up distractedly, then with all of his attention when he realizes who has entered his study. His brows snap low and he stands, rushing to my side and slipping a supportive arm around my waist.

"You should not be out of bed," he states, irritation and worry coloring his tone.

I try to shrug off his arm, to little avail. "I can't stand another _second_ in there!"

"You are not fully healed," he argues and I roll my eyes like a child.

"I'm _fine_ , Solas. I just need a change of scenery. I'll die of boredom if I go back to that room," I complain.

Solas releases a put-upon sigh, but I see a bit of humor in his eyes, "For someone so level-headed, you can be quite dramatic when you think it will achieve results."

"Well, I've already finished all the books Varric brought me, plus the ones you did. So yeah, I'm a bit desperate."

"Very well," Solas finally concedes, walking me over to the couch and helping me sit down. His concern is endearing, so I don't bother reminding him that I had to walk down multiple flights of stairs to get here. "But stay seated. If you require anything, inform me and I will retrieve it for you."

Before he pulls away completely, I place a small peck on the most prominent part of his cheek. Solas pulls back enough to look at my face and caresses my jaw for a second or two before returning to his chair.

I get comfortable, tucking my bare feet under me. After a few minutes of quiet, I speak up. "So, I saw a Grey Warden when I passed through the main hall. It's probably safe to assume Aila didn't banish them, yeah?"

The shoulder that I can see tenses and Solas scoffs. "Unfortunately. And against my advisement."

I snort, shaking my head in exasperation. "Yes, I'm sure you were quite vocal in your hatred of the Wardens."

Solas turns in his chair to look at me, eyes sharp. "You never did answer my question. Am I to take it that you support them?"

"Of course I do," I answer emphatically. "Thedas would be a lot worse off if it weren't for them."

"Forgive me. I did not realize that absolved them of all wrongs," he mocks, eyes narrowed.

I cross my arms defensively, feeling a bit put off by his anger. "What is your issue with them?"

"Other than the obvious, you mean?" He doesn't give me a chance to answer, standing up again and clasping his hands behind his back. "They are the reason you became trapped in the Fade."

 _What the hell is he talking about? Obvious?_ I give him a perplexed and irritated look. "First of all, it was indirectly their fault that we _all_ ended up in the Fade. It was my _own_ choice to stay behind that got me stuck there. Second, what are you talking about? What's 'the obvious'?"

Solas' angry scowl changes to one of confusion. "You… do not know?"

I throw my arms up, "Know _what_?"

His posture relaxes slightly and he looks away. " _Ir abelas_. With all of the other knowledge you hold concerning my past… I assumed you already knew." He comes over and sits next to me on the couch. "The Old Gods… they are my kin," he whispers and my eyes widen in surprise.

"Kin?" I ask, leaning in, voice made almost inaudible to human ears. "The Pantheon or…?"

"The Dalish call them the Forgotten Ones."

"Oh… shit," I mutter, face contorted in understanding. "I didn't know, Solas. I'm sorry." I lay a hand on his knee in an attempt at sympathy. I can't help thinking, though, that perhaps the less angry godlike beings there are to be released upon the world, the better. I don't say so, of course. I'm not that much of an asshole.

Solas looks as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders now. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, uncharacteristically struggling for words. "Rhynn… do you know…." He looks up at me imploringly. "Will I succeed?"

In my mind, I see a shattered orb and Solas kneeling amongst the rubble, just as broken. Then, a soul transferred and glowing eyes. _Do I tell him? What happens if I do?_

"I don't know," the partial lie slips out easily. "Sorry…" _I have time._

"Ah," is Solas' only response, shoulders hunched. Before anything else can be said, someone enters the room. Two people, actually.

"What do I do with it?" Cole asks, walking toward us and then halting. "I've interrupted."

"It is quite all right, Cole," Solas stands, mask firmly back in place. "I take it you found one of the amulets. Excellent. May I?" He gestures toward the object in Cole's hand and the boy holds it out for him. Solas takes the amulet and examines it for a moment. "It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and you should be protected." He hands it back to Cole, who removes his hat and slips the cord around his neck.

"We know it's not going to work, right?" Aila pipes up, an edge of sarcasm to her voice. "It never just _works._ "

"Have faith, Inquisitor," Solas responds.

I partially raise my hand, tentatively interrupting. "Uh… actually…"

Solas turns, eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"It's not going to work," I tell them. Solas looks slightly taken aback at my words.

"Why not?" Aila asks curiously.

I look at Cole, giving him a small nod that he returns. "He's in limbo," I explain. "Not really human, but also not really a spirit."

"Cole's circumstances are unique, yes," Solas retorts. "But he remains a spirit regardless."

I roll my eyes, cross my arms, and lean back in my seat. "It's not going to work," I sing-song.

Solas huffs and holds out a hand, magic flowing from his fingertips into the amulet. A second or two later, a loud bang fills the room and Cole cries out. I sigh loudly and Solas lowers his arm.

"Rhynn was correct," Aila points out helpfully. _Thank you._

"What was that?" Varric asks, entering the rotunda. He takes one look at the scene and shakes his head in exasperation. "Oh for… what are you doing to the kid?"

Cole turns around to address Varric, "Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work."

"Something is interfering with the enchantment," Solas adds. _Seriously?_

Varric raises an eyebrow. "Something like Cole not being a demon?"

"Hear, hear," I mutter, stretching out lazily on the couch.

Aila, looking thoughtful, turns to the Inquisition's resident Fade expert. "Solas, is it possible that Rhynn and Varric are correct? That the amulet doesn't work because Cole is too… human?"

"As I said before, Cole is a _spirit_ ," he replies adamantly.

"Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person," Varric argues, arms crossed.

Cole begins pacing in agitation. "I don't matter. Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow."

I frown deeply at his words. _Of course you matter, Cole. Don't be ridiculous._ He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

Solas approaches Cole and speaks calmly. "Focus on the amulet. Tell me what you feel."

There's a quiet moment before he speaks. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I'm the wrong shape, there's something…." Cole turns slowly and points. "There. That way."

I desperately think of anything but what I know. Finding it out from me isn't going to make this any easier on Cole, especially when there's nothing to be done about it at Skyhold.

"It appears we have something to find," Aila comments, pushing off from where she was leaning against the wooden scaffolding. "I told you it never just works," she sasses.

"All right, Kid. Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong," Varric instructs.

Cole looks around the room, "Will you come with me? All of you?" _He wants me to come, too?_ Cole locks eyes with me. "Yes."

I nod, giving him a small smile.

"Sure," Varric agrees and the others give their assent as well. Cole leaves the room and Varric turns to Solas. "All right, I get it. You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

"If I see a way to protect Cole without taking away… whatever he is, I'll use it," Aila interjects. "But Cole clearly needs our help."

"I'm not saying we do nothing," Varric defends. "But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?"

"This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone," Solas' face is expressionless and cold, tone scornful. "We cannot change our nature by wishing."

I give Solas an odd look that he doesn't notice. _I'll have to ask him about that later…_

Varric raises an eyebrow challengingly, "You don't think?"

"However we deal with the problem," Solas continues as if Varric didn't speak, "our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment."

Aila turns to me. "What _is_ interfering with the enchantment?"

I let out a slightly bitter laugh. "Well, I'm glad at least one of you thought to ask." The other two glance over at me. Varric just appears amused, but Solas' expression is a strange mix of both irritation and chagrin. "But I won't answer that question. This is something Cole needs to remember on his own, and the less people thinking about it the better."

"Remember?" Aila asks, head tilted in confusion. "Did something happen to him?"

"Yes and no. It's complicated. But that's all I'm going to say."

"Fair enough," Varric inclines his head. "As long as Cole's all right."

"Yeah," I nod. "He'll be okay."

Aila and Varric exit the room and Solas remains where he is, back rigid. Part of me sympathizes with his side of things, knowing that he understands spirits more than anyone. The other part of me isn't too thrilled with the way he talked to Varric.

"It might be hypocritical of me to say this," I begin, cringing when I remember how I treated the other healers originally. "But if you want people to listen, maybe try _not_ looking down on them when they don't know as much as you do."

Solas sits down at his desk, opening a thick tome. "I have much research left to do," he replies stiffly. "Should you have need of anything, just ask."

I sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions and glaring up at the rookery.

                                                                  

 

It's been a few days since the incident with the amulet and we leave the day after tomorrow for Redcliffe. It took a lot of convincing, but Solas eventually conceded that I'm well enough for travel.

This day, however, is a calm one. Currently, I am lounging on the rug in the rotunda, reading Swords and Shields. I can't help chuckling every few minutes at the ridiculous smut. Knowing it was written to get back at Aveline just makes it that much funnier. I have a feeling Solas is slightly irritated by my constant noise, judging by the small sounds of discontent coming from his direction.

"Rhynn."

I hum distractedly, focused on a particularly juicy bit. "Oh my God, Varric," I mutter. "She must hate you for this."

"Rhynnara."

I roll onto my back and poke his thigh with my toe, "Don't call me that."

"If you had responded the first time, it would not have been necessary," he chides.

"Yes, _hahren_ ," I sass, grinning widely. Solas rolls his eyes, lips twitching. "What was it you wanted to say?"

He suddenly looks quite somber. "There is something I have neglected to inform you of. Something that happened while you were gone."

"Oh?"

"Our spymaster attempted to acquire one of your weapons, but her operative was thwarted," Solas informs me and my smile drops.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I growl, climbing to my feet and tossing my book onto the sofa. _Time to put an end to this nonsense._ "Meet me in the war room in ten minutes," I instruct, marching out of the room without waiting for a response.

I ask around and eventually find Aila chatting with Blackwall near the stables. "Inquisitor," I interrupt and she whirls around, giving me a strange look. Probably because I never call her by a title. "Please gather everyone in the war room as soon as possible. And by everyone, I mean all of your advisors and companions."

"Rhynn, what's going on?" she asks, concerned.

"We'll discuss it in the war room," I reply tersely, turning around and heading back to the main part of the fortress.

Josephine is in her office when I enter, startling when the door slams against the wall. "I've called a meeting," is all I say as I storm through. She stands quickly and follows.

"Lady Rhynn, what is this about?"

I push open one of the large doors leading to the war room. "I'll answer that when everyone gets here."

People soon begin trickling in, throwing questions my way that I continue to ignore, glaring furiously at the far wall. Solas enters and stands silently by my side.

Aila is the last, closing the door behind her. "All right, Rhynn. Everyone is here. What is going on?"

I finally look around the room, eyes lingering and narrowing on Leliana before moving on. "I was recently informed that one of Leliana's people tried to steal my guns after I explicitly stated that she could not have them," I start, walking slowly across the room.

The accused speaks up, "Your weapons could save many lives, but you selfishly – "

"Shut up," I hiss at her, then address all of them. "I'm going to talk and you're all going to listen. If you're very, very good, I might allow question time at the end," I snark viciously. I see a few of them glance at one another warily.

"I don't know who was involved and who wasn't," I continue. "Frankly, I don't really care. It _will not_ happen again." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Not all of you have had the opportunity to observe what my guns can do, so I'll do my best to explain.

"Guns are a common weapon where I'm from. In the country I grew up in, there was at least one in nearly every household." I pause, picking up an unused metal piece from the war table and fiddling with it. "Guns… they give a person more power than a sword, or a dagger, or even a crossbow. It takes little to no training to use one. Pretty much just aim and pull the trigger." I make the motions with my fingers. "Which is great if you need to defend yourself quickly. Not so much when a little boy finds his daddy's gun, decides it would be fun to play with, and accidentally kills his younger brother." I see a few people flinch in my peripheral vision. "Or when someone with a mental illness, who didn't get the help they needed because of a society that stigmatizes such things, guns down students on a college campus in a final act of desperation. And most definitely not when child soldiers are handed a gun and forced to kill for a warlord's selfish gain.

"For the most part, a gun is only as dangerous as the person wielding it. But that's kind of my point. They add a whole new element to warfare, to society itself. And those guns of mine," I cast an arm toward the door. "They are _nothing_ compared to the other weapons my people have engineered." I begin wandering the room, making eye contact with each person I pass. "If we're talking guns alone, my people have ones that could riddle you with holes in the blink of an eye. All a person has to do is hold down the trigger and it keeps firing. Then there's the shotgun. You saw me use it on that giant Red Templar. Remember, Varric?"

"Yeah," he answers, rather unenthusiastically.

"You saw what it did to him?" I ask and Varric nods. "Can you _imagine_ the carnage it could do to a regular person?" I laugh without humor. "It could take your leg clean off with one shot, no problem. We also have guns that will let you blow a person's head to bits from a mile away. Rather handy, really, if you want to assassinate someone without them ever seeing you. Or, if you want to make sure the job is done right, use a bullet that enters but doesn't come out, just bounces around in the skull and turns their brains to mush.

"And that's the best part about guns, really," I announce mockingly. "There's such a wonderful disconnect between you and your victim. You don't have to feel it, smell it, hear it, or see it up close like with other weapons. I've killed plenty of people with a knife before," I admit. "It's an intimate thing. You feel the blade slice through skin and sinew, feel the blood spray out and coat your hands, watch the life leave their eyes. And you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was your doing. But with a gun, you don't have to worry about all that. It's so easy and quick to pull that trigger." I point an imaginary gun at Leliana. "Just one little twitch of the finger and _bam!_ Sure, you might get a little blood spray on you, but it's not on your hands. It wasn't really you; it was the gun!"

I slap my hands down on the table and grin ferally. "Oh, but that's just the beginning! You see, once a society has guns, they want more. Better and more efficient ways of killing. So we create bombs. Now, I obviously know you have explosives here, but they're child's play compared to what my world has, and what it uses regularly. Imagine yourself and a comrade in arms, charging towards the enemy. Then something hits and you're thrown to the ground. Your buddy is gone, nothing but a smear of blood and gore strewn across the battlefield. And you… you're lying on your back in the mud, left arm and leg missing, bleeding out alone behind enemy lines.

"We've got bombs to suit all needs. Want to infiltrate an underground bunker? Just use a flying machine and drop one that can penetrate hundreds of feet of solid rock. Easy peasy. Want one that can wipe out an entire city? We've got that, too. Did you all see the aftermath of the Conclave explosion?" I ask, looking around. There are a few tentative nods, so I continue. "It was awful, right? The temple reduced to rubble, charred bodies frozen in the moment of their death." I pause to let them recall the imagery. "Now multiply that by one hundred and that's the atom bomb." Many eyes snap up to look at me in shock. Solas' brow is furrowed, perhaps thinking of the things I taught him. "At the center of an atomic blast crater, there is nothing. Go out a mile and maybe some buildings are still standing, but every living thing has been turned to ash. Go out another mile and you might find a few things still alive, but they're dying and there's nothing you can do about it. A bit further, a bit more life, but it's all sick. Miles and miles of staggered death. There's no cure for radiation sickness. Not really. Depending on your exposure, you might die quickly or it might take decades, slow and painful."

Most of them are looking rather ill now. Only Leliana, Bull, and Solas have managed to maintain looks of cool indifference. I know Solas well enough by now, though, that I can see the horror in his eyes. "We don't use that bomb anymore. Even we were horrified by it. This is the world I come from, though. We've done a lot of really wonderful things, I won't discount that. But we are _very_ proficient at killing one another, and we do it often. Thousands of lives at a time. So _forgive me_ for wanting to spare you from that future for just a little while longer."

I turn on my heel and walk calmly from the room, not wanting to hear any more. I don't realize Solas has followed until I see him fall into step beside me. He doesn't say a word.

"It was you that stopped Leliana's spy, wasn't it?" I ask quietly.

"Yes."

" _Ma melava halani_ , _lethal'lin._ "

A hand slips into mine and squeezes gently. I return the gesture.

" _Ara melava son'ganem."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations directly from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen:
> 
> Ma melava halani – An elvish idiom essentially meaning, "You have spent your time to help me." Archaic and intimate. Rarely spoken to those who are not very close friends, family, or lovers.
> 
> Ara melava son'ganem – My time is well-spent. Similar to ma melava halani, is archaic and intimate. Rarely spoken to those who are not close friends, family, or lovers.


	30. Microscopes, music, and choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating! I've been busy lately. The lyrics in this chapter are from Hound Dog. The most well-known version (and the one I used) is by Elvis Prestley, but the song was originally sung by a blues singer named Big Mama Thornton. I actually prefer the original version, but that's because I love jazz and blues.
> 
> The song Rhynn plays in this chapter is Ashokan Farewell. Gorgeous song. Here's the link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kZASM8OX7s 
> 
> Disclaimer: I bought a copy of Dragon Age: Inquisition. That makes it all mine, right? Maybe in my wildest dreams…

I poke my head into the undercroft. "Dagna? Are you here?" My voice bounces off the stone walls.

"Yep! Just… one… second," it sounds like she's working on something. I move all the way into the large room and shut the door behind me. Dagna is hunched over one of the benches, toiling away. I wander over, hesitant to interrupt. "There! Perfect!" She holds up some contraption. I have no idea what it is, but I smile anyway. "So," she sets the thing down and turns to me, "what can I do for you?"

I rub my forearm, "This is going to sound strange, so bear with me."

"Ooh! I like strange!"

I give a little chuckle. "Well, all right then! So… there's something I wanted help making. Something that would allow a person to see things that are close but really small… make them appear bigger without actually making them bigger." I cringe, "If that makes any sense at all."

"Sure!" Dagna smiles brightly. "Like a telescope but different!"

"Exactly! Where I'm from, we use a combination of convex lenses," I demonstrate what I mean with my hands.

"Let's try it out!" Dagna becomes a tiny tornado, whipping from chest to bench to forge. I just step back and watch, amazed that any one person could have so much energy. Dagna asks a lot of questions which I answer to the best of my ability. When she's busy working, though, I wander around, inspecting the curious items lying about.

Sometime later, Dagna calls me over. "I made a lot of them, just in case!"

There is a pile of glass lenses on the table. "I'll say." I pick up one and examine it. "These should work. We just need to position them the correct distance apart. I'm not sure what that is, though."

"Time to guess and check!" Dagna replies cheerfully.

"Time to guess and check," I parrot.

And that is how we spend the rest of the day. The sun is just starting to set when we finally achieve optimal arrangement of the lenses. I leapt to my feet, throwing my hands up in the air and cheering. Dagna joins me and we end up dancing around the undercroft in excitement. Harritt, who left about an hour ago, returns at that precise moment. He takes in our ridiculousness for a half second before turning back around and leaving again, grumbling under his breath. This just makes Dagna and I burst into laughter.

After calming down, I sigh deeply and drag a hand over my face tiredly. "I should probably call it a night," I tell the cheery dwarf. "I have to be up at the ass-crack of dawn."

Dagna giggles, hands on her hips. "I think I'll stay for a bit and try to make a housing for this thing."

I give her a wary look. "Are you actually alive?"

She pretends to ponder the question before grinning. "Pretty sure!"

"If you say so," I laugh, stretching my aching back. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but I'll come see you again when I'm back."

"Have fun on your trip!" She's already back at the workbench, tinkering with the lenses.

I groan, "I think this is going to be like a horrible family road trip, minus the minivan."

"I have no idea what that means!"

I snort out another laugh. "That's ok. See you later, Dagna."

"Bye!" she wiggles her fingers at me over her shoulder.

                                                             

 

This is certainly the _weirdest_ road trip I've ever been on. Aila keeps stopping every few minutes to climb off her horse and gather herbs, Cole is some ways away studying a tree, and Solas and Varric are bickering about something. And I'm so bored, I'm actually listening to them.

"What's so great about empires anyway?" Varric continues. "So we lost the Deep Roads, and Orzammar is too proud to ask for help. So what? We're _not_ Orzammar and we're _not_ our empire. There are tens of thousands of us living up here in the sunlight now and it's not that bad. Life goes on. It's just different than it used to be."

"And you have no concept of what that difference cost you," Solas remarks snidely.

Varric huffs a short laugh. "Oh, I know what it _didn't_ cost me. I'm still here, even after all those thaigs fell."

Solas is shaking his head in disbelief. "You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could have been, never fighting back."

Varric scoffs. "You've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This _is_ fighting back."

"How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?" Solas sounds as if he's nearly laughing at the thought.

Varric hums thoughtfully, "In that story of yours, the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?"

"Yes?" Solas draws the word out.

"But he went on living," Varric argues. "He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone. That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes, and it's gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets."

"Well said," Solas concedes after a moment. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

It's more fun than it probably should be to watch others challenge Solas' long-held beliefs. _Well said indeed, Varric._ It seems they're done talking for now, though. _There goes that source of entertainment…_

It's quiet for the next ten minutes and I search desperately for something to occupy my mind. I can't allow myself to think of the reason for this trip, lest Cole hear it in my head.

With no outside source of distraction, I fall back on old habits. It starts as a muted humming, then muttering under my breath, then full-on singing.

_"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine."_ I start dancing a little in the saddle, wiggling my shoulders. " _Well they said you was high-classed. Well, that was just a lie. Yeah, they said you was high-classed. Well, that was just a lie. Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine."_ I let go of the reigns and launch into an air guitar solo, humming the part.

Everyone but Cole has started glancing back at me, but I ignore them. " _You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine."_

"Uh, Princess, you okay back there?" Varric asks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised.

I drop my hands to pick up the reigns again. "Yeah, just entertaining myself."

Solas looks curious, "Was that a song from Earth?"

"Yep."

"You have… odd music," Aila observes and I start laughing.

"That was nothing compared to most of the songs from my world," I tell her, smirking in amusement. "You should be glad I'm not back here singing about tits and pussy."

Aila and Solas look slightly taken aback, but Varric just chuckles and shakes his head. Cole chooses that moment to rejoin us, a serene smile on his face and a nug in his lap. I start laughing again. _Oh Cole, you're the best._

"Thank you!"

                                                                

 

We stop at one of the camps in the Hinterlands when the sun is half hidden by the horizon. I slide off of my horse with a groan, inner thighs aching as I tie one of the reigns loosely to a tree.

"Son of a bitch," I complain, rubbing my legs. Sudden warmth blossoms between them and I give a startled gasp, jerking upright. The feeling recedes, taking pain with it, and I sigh in relief.

"Better?"

I turn around to find Solas watching me with smiling eyes. "Much, thank you." He just nods, walking into the circle of tents nearby. I remove my things from the horse and follow, setting them near a log by the campfire. I then begin removing my armor, piece by piece. After the repair work Harritt did, it's almost impossible to tell there was once a large hole in the middle.

My boots and socks are the last to go, and I sink my toes into the plush green grass, relishing the coolness against my sweaty feet. I grab my violin and wander out a ways from camp, settling on a boulder near a stream and dipping my bare feet in the water.

The evening sun is golden and pleasantly warm. I close my eyes and soak it in, taking a deep breath of fresh air. For the moment, I feel at peace. I'm not even all that surprised when fingers thread into my hair, though I didn't hear their owner approach.

"This lighting… your hair is more a dark brown than true black," Solas massages my scalp slightly and I hum happily, leaning my head back to look up at him.

"You sound as if a theory of yours has just been proven correct."

"I had wondered…" he trails off.

My lips twist in amusement. "Do you think a lot about the color of my hair?" I tease. "That's cute."

"I think a lot about you in general," he replies matter-of-factly, but I can see the tips of his ears coloring slightly. Then his words sink in and I'm blushing, too.

"Solas?" my voice is quiet, intimate.

He strokes my cheek softly. "Yes, Rhynn?"

"Do you, uh…" I clear my throat. "Do you still want to hear me play?" I gesture toward the instrument at my side.

"I do."

I grab the handle of the case and stand up. "I've been thinking…" my gaze flits to his face and away repeatedly. "I wanted to say thank you… for, well, just being there for me over these past few weeks. Longer than that, even. I thought this might be a good way to show you how grateful I am."

Solas brings my free hand up and kisses the inside of my wrist. "I would be honored."

I chuckle nervously, "I'm not _that_ good."

"I shall decide that for myself," he gives a small smile and steps back.

I set the case on a relatively flat rock, unlock it, flick open the clasps, and lift the lid. I pull out the bow first, tightening it and retrieving a hunk of rosin from one of the compartments. I run the hairs over it and Solas watches curiously.

"It's to help the bow stick to the strings," I explain and it seems to satisfy him for now.

I remove my violin from the case, attaching the shoulder rest and placing the instrument between my collar bone and jaw. I draw the bow across two strings at a time, tuning by ear. My hands shake a little, but I try to ignore it. Once that's done, I turn to face Solas. I know what I want to play for him.

I take a calming breath and begin. I look at my fingers as I play, watching them dance, letting muscle memory take care of the notes and while I focus on technique. _Vibrato, trill, vibrato, glissando_. It keeps the darker memories at bay for a short while, but eventually they creep to the fore. When an image of L'rij, dancing and carefree, sweeps across my mind, I falter slightly. My eyes move from the fingerboard to Solas and I push through. His are closed, taking in the music, and there is a smile flirting at those full lips. He must sense my gaze, because eyelids open and blue orbs fix on mine. The smile grows and I can't help but return it. I let my body sway with the slow rhythm of the song, exaggerating each stroke of horse hair across metal.

I hold the last note, fading out, then lower both violin and bow and look up at the elf across from me. He's wearing a soft expression.

" _Ina'lan'ehn_ ," he breathes.

I smile shyly and look down, "Thank you."

"No," he touches my chin, lifting my face so that our eyes meet. "Thank _you_ , _lethal'lan_ , for sharing this part of yourself with me." He kisses me tenderly, then, and for only a few heartbeats.

I pack up my violin and we return to camp, a small weight lifting from my heart.

                                                           

 

As we enter the village of Redcliffe, I brace myself. I know what's coming, but I still don't know what to do about it, or if I should do anything at all. Plus, I still have to keep my thoughts quiet for a little while longer.

We reach the center of town and Cole takes off, disappearing from my side and reappearing in front of a man with a large mustache. _Here we go._

" _You_ ," Cole hisses and the man's eyes widen. Cole reaches his target, forcing him to his knees with a hand to the forehead. Mustache looks about ready to piss himself. "You killed me!" Cole cries, other hand clutching a dagger, poised to strike.

"What, I don't… I don't even know you!" the man protests.

I hurry over and the others follow.

"You forgot," Cole continues. "You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!"

The man gasps, "The Spire?"

"Cole, stop," Solas commands gently and Cole hesitates enough for the man to scramble to his feet and run away.

Cole starts to follow, but Varric blocks his path. "Just take it easy, Kid."

"He killed me," Cole insists. "He killed me. That's why it doesn't work. He killed me, and I have to kill him back!"

I feel the skin around my eyes tighten in sympathy. _It's going to be okay, Cole._ For once, I don't think he's listening.

"Before anyone gets killed," Aila speaks up, "I need to know what's going on."

Solas steps forward. "Cole, this man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

I just stand off to the side, shaking my head with a fist pressed to my mouth. I know what's coming, but part of me wishes I didn't.

Cole looks off into the distance, launching into a memory. "A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate." I can see the exact moment realization comes to each of them. Varric's eyes close and he lowers his head, Solas' face pinches as his head shakes minutely, and Aila's eyes widen, her lips parting. "They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death." Cole's voice shakes slightly with emotion. "I came through to help… and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

"If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a templar," Varric observes quietly. "Must've been buying lyrium."

Cole's fists clench and he starts walking toward where the man went. "Let me kill him. I need to…" His normally soft voice twists into something darker, resolute, "I need to."

Aila, Solas, and Varric huddle close and begin talking. I stay on the fringes, listening in.

"Solas?" Aila starts.

He clasps his hands behind his back and widens his stance. "We cannot let Cole kill the man."

"I don't think anyone was going to suggest that, Chuckles," Varric retorts, voice muted.

"Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose," Solas explains. "To regain that part of himself, he must forgive."

"Come on!" Varric argues. "You don't just forgive someone _killing you._ "

Solas scowls. " _You_ don't. A spirit can."

I tune them out, knowing they'll continue bickering, and look over at Cole. He's standing a short distance away, fists clenched, body rigid. _Doesn't he get a say?_ With that thought, I know what to do.

I wander away from the others to stand beside Cole. "Hey, you," I greet gently, but he doesn't respond. I put a bit more authority into my voice. "Cole, focus on my thoughts."

His head turns slowly and tilts. I let some of what I knew about this move to the forefront of my mind for the first time in a week. Cole's brow furrows. "You knew. You remembered this."

"Yes," I nod sadly. "But I kept it to myself because I figured telling you in advance would only hurt you unnecessarily." I pause, thinking. "You'll be happy either way, Cole, whether you become more human or more like a spirit. And you'll be safe from binding, too. What do _you_ want?"

"I…" he hesitates, blinking rapidly. "I don't know."

I hum in understanding. "It's certainly not a decision to make lightly, is it? I won't lie to you, becoming more spirit-like is probably the easier path. You _know_ how to be a spirit."

He nods, "Yes. I do."

"Being human… it's anything _but_ easy. Our thoughts tend to get all jumbled up with emotions that make it difficult to see past our own feelings, and it'll be harder to help people the way you usually do. But those emotions are also what make being human so exciting. We get to feel love, anger, confusion, and sadness, sometimes all at once. And your friends would be more than happy to help you learn new ways of helping."

Cole wrings his hands, face contorted. "I don't… What do I do?"

"That's up to you, Cole," I reply, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Nobody should make this decision for you. It's _your_ life. I guess what it comes down to is this: do you want to go back to the familiar or do you want to try something new? There's nothing wrong with either choice."

Cole looks in the direction of the templar. "He needs to pay," he states angrily and I rub my hand up and down his arm soothingly.

I don't let myself think of how either Varric or Solas might help him. "He'll get what he deserves," I promise vaguely.

Cole is silent for a few minutes as he contemplates. "I… I think I want to be more like you, like my friends," he finally answers, looking down at his hands. "Like Cole."

"Are you sure?" I check.

"Yes."

I nod and turn, walking back to the others. It looks like they've finally come to a decision, but I interrupt. "Cole wants Varric to help him."

They all stare at me in shock and then start talking at once.

"Is he even capable of – "

"You just asked – "

"He will be twisted – "

"He'll be safe and happy either way," I talk over them and they fall silent. "He's fully capable of making this decision and has done so. Respect it." Varric and Aila look slightly ashamed, but Solas narrows his eyes, stubborn and proud. I hold his gaze steadily. "Varric?" I ask without looking at the dwarf.

"I'm on it." I hear him walk away and start talking to Cole.

"I thought you considered spirits to be people, Solas," I challenge and his lips thin.

"I do."

I raise an eyebrow. "Shouldn't people be allowed to make their own life choices?"

"Normally, yes, but when a person becomes incapable of rational thought, sometimes outside action is necessary," he replies levelly. "I only want what is best for Cole."

My brow lowers and agitation has me beginning to talk with my hands. "You didn't even bother asking him! He's angry and hurt, and rightfully so! But he wasn't beyond reason." I take a couple of steps forward. "You know more about spirits than anyone, Solas. There's no question there. But that doesn't mean you know everything."

Solas' eyes flash. "I never claimed such!"

"Well, you certainly act like it sometimes!"

"Uh," Aila holds a hand up between us, "I hate to interrupt, but…" She points and we both turn to see Varric and Cole on their way back.

I grab Solas' hand and drag him behind the nearest building, out of sight. I roughly push him up against the wall and smash my lips to his. It takes him a moment to respond, but then it's messy and angry and just what I need. There's a lot of teeth and tongue, even more grabbing and groping. Eventually, I pull away, gasping for air.

"I don't like letting stuff fester," I explain breathlessly.

Solas chuckles, "And this was your idea of solving the problem?"

"Are you complaining?" I smirk.

"Not at all," he squeezes my ass playfully and I slap his shoulder, chuckling a bit myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking stuff up about microscope lenses brought back some horrible memories of Physics 102 *cringe*.
> 
> Also, I think Thedas would have very low-powered telescopes by this point.
> 
> Ina'lan'ehn: Beautiful


	31. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! School started up again and I've realized I won't be sleeping for the rest of the semester. Woohoo! I highly recommend that you all become genetics majors. It's super easy and fun. *deadpan stare* Anyway, my update schedule is obviously going to be a bit irregular from now on, so sorry about that.
> 
> I had plans for this chapter. Plot-like plans. That obviously didn't happen. So enjoy 4,000 plus words of pure nonsense. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine.

Back at camp now, I sit on the ground near the fire, poking it with a stick. Despite the impromptu make-out session, things are still a bit… strained between Solas and I. Actually, _nobody_ has talked much since the events in Redcliffe and the silence is thick with tension.

"Anyone up for a bit of Wicked Grace?" Varric suddenly asks, ruffling through his bag for a stack of cards.

"Yeah, I'm in," Aila moves closer to the dwarf. Cole doesn't answer verbally, but he also sits nearby.

I sigh and drop the stick into the flames, standing. "Sure." I walk over and plop down next to Cole.

"Chuckes, you joining us?" Varric calls, looking toward a silhouette outside the circle of tents.

_Ah, so that's where he is. I hadn't noticed._

_… Oh, who am I kidding?_

Varric starts dealing and I focus on the cards instead.

"Ah, no…" comes the soft reply. "Thank you."

I examine the little rectangles in my hand, narrowing my eyes at the images. _I have no idea what these are. Great._

"Suit yourself," Varric shrugs and the game begins. I find myself glancing over at Solas more than I'd like, each time dragging my eyes back to my cards and scolding myself silently.

I do my best, using logic and a lot of bluffing, but it soon becomes apparent to the others how clueless I am.

Varric claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning, "Look, Princess, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you're really awful at this." Aila hides a snicker behind her cards.

I snort and raise an eyebrow. "No, really?" I ask, voice thick with sarcasm.

"The Kid is doing better than you, and he can't lie," Varric points out helpfully, dropping his hand back to his lap.

Cole's eyebrows furrow, "I don't understand. Why would I need to lie?"

I pat Cole's back fondly. "Don't listen to Varric," I joke. "He's a bad influence."

Varric adopts a hurt expression. "Me?" He holds a hand over his chest. "I'm as pure as the skin of Chuckles' ass cheeks."

I splutter in shock and start cackling, head thrown back.

Varric smiles knowingly. "Thanks for _that_ unwanted confirmation."

I make a face, glancing over at the elf in question, small chuckles still burbling from between my lips. "It's not a confirmation. I wouldn't know," I reply without thinking.

"Is that so?" Varric teases. The glare I cast at him lacks sincerity.

"Well, go find out!" Aila reaches over and grabs the cards from my hands, shooing me. I give her a slightly incredulous look, but my eyes stray to the slender shape of Solas once again. I groan and stand, padding softly on bare feet towards the figure.

"Inquisitor, I'm shocked," I hear Varric say with humor behind me and my lips twitch.

I sink down beside the ancient elf, "Hey."

"Hello," he glances at me from the corner of his eye.

We're silent for a few moments before I speak. "I'm… sorry for the way I acted earlier."

Solas sighs wearily, reaching over to twine our fingers together. "There is no need for that, Rhynn." He kisses the back of my hand. "If anything, it is I who should be making amends. You were correct. The decision was Cole's to make."

I gaze thoughtfully out at the dark landscape. "Whether or not that's true, you didn't deserve me lashing out at you like that. I'd say we share the blame."

"Perhaps," Solas disentangles our hands to wrap an arm around my waist. I lean into him and we just sit there for a bit, enjoying the stillness of the night.

I hear boisterous laughter coming from the campfire and smile. Something occurs to me then, and I narrow my eyes at Solas. "You totally heard everything didn't you?"

A smirk tugs at his lips. "My hearing is excellent," he says by way of an answer.

I groan into his shoulder, chuckling. "That's just wonderful."

Solas' hand travels up my back and into my hair, tilting my head so that he can kiss my temple. "You are beautiful in the moonlight," he whispers, thumb caressing the corner of my jaw.

_Beautiful? Decent-looking, maybe. Perhaps even attractive without the scars. But beautiful…?_

"Just in the moonlight?" I joke, feeling self-conscious.

Solas leans in close. "All of the time."

I blush furiously, hiding my face in my hands. "You can't say stuff like that to me!" I mumble.

"And why not?"

"Because it's dangerous!" Very, very dangerous. I already like him too much for my own good.

Soft lips caress the shell of my ear, breath tickling the small hairs and making me shiver. "Perhaps I enjoy a bit of danger." His voice sounds slightly deeper than usual, rougher. I clutch at the fabric of my pants to stay grounded.

I turn around and swing my leg across, seating myself in his lap. I drape my arms over his shoulders as his encircle my waist. I let my lips trail along the edge of his jaw until they brush against his ear.

"Something on your mind, Fen'Harel?" I murmur and his grip tightens. I press small kisses to the bit of neck I can access, making a sound of frustration at the high collar of his shirt.

"You are…" a gust of breath as I flick my tongue out to taste skin, "rather distracting in your anger."

I think I just got the Solas equivalent of 'you're cute when you're angry.' I roll my eyes, and yet I can't help but smile. Solas guides my lips to his own and kisses me tenderly, heat simmering just below the surface. I cup the back of his head and return the kiss.

His hands explore my curves, running down my back, over my ass, and along my thighs. On the return journey, a thumb grazes the side of my breast and I sigh into his mouth, shifting my hips. His breath hitches when I continue to move them.

A cleared throat has us both pulling back, breathing heavily. An Inquisition agent, most likely on patrol, passes us without making eye contact.

"Perhaps this is not the ideal place for such activities," Solas remarks, suppressed laughter coloring his tone.

I hum in agreement, gracelessly clamoring off of his lap and pushing to my feet. "Probably not." I suck on my lower lip, the taste of him lingering there. "So, um…" I rub my forearm and shuffle my feet, "are we sharing a tent?"

Solas tilts his head and studies me. "Is that what you want?"

"I, uh…" I blush and look at my feet, shrugging. "Sure, yeah." My eyes dart back up to his, "I mean, if that's what you want, of course."

Those full lips twitch in amusement. "Yes, Rhynn, that is what I want," he moves in close. "Writhing in my lap one moment, then blushing over sharing a tent the next. You are certainly quite the enigma." He smirks and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "As if we have not spent numerous nights sharing a bed prior to this."

I snort and give a small, self-deprecating smile. "Yeah, yeah. I'm awkward as fuck when it comes to this stuff. Thank you ever so much for pointing it out."

Solas chuckles, "Awkward is not the adjective I would have chosen."

"Oh?" I arch an eyebrow playfully. "And how would _you_ describe the way I stumble over myself?"

He leans in slightly, eyes shimmering with mirth and heat. "Endearing, alluring, desirable. Take your pick."

I blush again, even as I roll my eyes and try to contain the pleased grin that attempts to split my face _._ I hum, "I think I like all three." Solas responds by kissing me again briefly.

We walk back toward the fire. The others are still wrapped up in their game, but Aila and Varric manage to send grins and waggled eyebrows our way… which I promptly ignore. Solas and I grab our things and he holds the tent flap aside for me before following in after.

Stooped over, I set my things aside and unfurl my bedroll. Solas does the same. I sit down atop the fabric and begin unlacing my boots, kicking them into the corner. We curl up next to each other, Solas' arm wrapped around my waist.

Exhausted from the events of the day, I can already feel myself slipping into unconsciousness when soft lips press to my forehead.

" _On nydha, lethal'lan_. I will see you soon." I mumble some sort of reply before sleep finally takes me.

                                                              

 

_It's loud and chaotic backstage as everyone hurries to pack up. I take my time, carefully strapping my violin into its case and zipping it shut. I'm in no hurry to join the crowds that surely fill the halls, and I know my family will wait for me. I haven't felt well all week and the thought of people pressing close, jostling me, makes me nauseated. I brush a hand over my forehead, wiping away the sweat. The room spins a bit, so I sit down for a minute until the feeling passes._

_I'm the last one to leave the room and the amount of people outside has decreased to more manageable levels. It takes a few moments of searching, but I spot my dad and brother standing near a pillar and make my way towards them._

_Dad is the first to notice me. "Wonderful, as usual." He gives me a hug, smiling proudly._

_"I liked the solo," Mycah comments, grinning at the two of us._

_"Thank you," I address both of them half-heartedly and they frown._

_Suddenly, the buzzing at the base of my skull, which has been gradually getting worse over the past few days, becomes unbearable. I clutch the back of my head and slump against the wall._

_"Rhynn?" Dad's voice. "Rhynn, what's wrong?" He sounds worried. A hand clutches my arm and it's the only thing keeping me from sliding down the wall. "Sweetheart, look at me."_

_I try to, but my eyes won't focus. Something is very wrong. "Dad?"_

_"I'm here."_

_"Dad…" My knees give out and I sink to the ground. My head is an old TV, loud static buzzing inside my skull and a high-pitched ringing in my ears. My vision grows dark._

_"Rhynn!"_

_There is nothing for a few moments… for an eternity. Then everything, all at once. Light blinds me and sounds are too loud. Something brushes against my arm and the sensation has me crying out in agony. Then something else impacts my side and I scream._

_After an unknown period of time, my senses dull once more. I pry my eyelids open, confused and scared and dazed. I'm lying on the ground, leaves and other detritus scratching at my skin. My eyes focus slowly and I take in my surroundings._

A forest? But… _I clearly recall being inside._ What happened?

_A soft breeze rustles through the trees and the sound is familiar. But that's about the only thing that is. The foliage is… strange. I've never seen plants like this before. And the light filtering through the leaves is too red._

Where am I?

_My heart beats faster as I push myself upright. My violin case lies on the ground beside me, looking no worse for wear. I absentmindedly brush away the leaves sticking to my face._

_"Dad?" I call timidly. "Mycah?" I blink rapidly, keeping the tears at bay._

"Rhynn."

I whip around, eyes wide. There is a bald man standing a few feet away, watching me calmly. His blue eyes are kind and I almost don't notice the strangely shaped ears.

 _Oh._ The forest blurs and I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face.

"We really need to stop meeting this way," I joke weakly and the elf graces me with a small smile. "Just give me a second," I request and he nods, turning his back to give me privacy.

I run a hand through my hair and breathe deeply. _I suppose it's not one of my worst dreams. I should be thankful for that._ Still, it left me shaken. The actual event was a terrifying experience and I'll most likely remember the details until the day I die.

I stand and approach Solas, extending a hand to smooth upward between his shoulder blades. He faces me and examines my face. He must find what he seeks because he simply leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"Shall we explore, _'ma falon_?"

"Actually…" I fidget with a strand of hair, "can you teach me more about manipulating the Fade? I'd like to put a stop to stuff like… that." I wave a hand vaguely over my shoulder.

Solas frowns. "I'm afraid that may not be possible."

"Why?"

"If one possesses the ability to control the Fade, it may be honed. Sharpened. However, many do not," he explains.

"Oh, right. That makes sense," I reply, shrugging and nodding. "I can still learn a bit, though, with you here. Right?"

Solas smiles and inclines his head. "That is correct."

"Well? What are we waiting for?" I ask excitedly and his smile turns into a grin.

"Patience, _da'len_ ," he teases and I pinch his side playfully.

"Don't get condescending, old man."

He feigns offense, "Old man?"

"Well, you _are_ getting up there in age. What is it now? A few millennia?" I smirk, crossing my arms and tapping my chin thoughtfully.

Solas wraps an arm around me, pulling my body flush to his. "Such impertinence! You should show more respect to your elders."

I just grin cheekily, "Careful there. Don't throw out a hip."

Solas laughs and starts peppering my neck with kisses. It tickles and I laugh, too, wiggling out of his grasp. There's a drawn out second where we just stare at each other, stock still, eyes dancing, before I take off running.

The Fade changes, turning into a dark forest filled with thick underbrush and tangled vines. I duck and weave and jump, moving forward as quickly as possible while also staying relatively quiet. I can't hear anything behind me and that sets my heart racing.

I run for a while before coming to a stop, crouching low and listening. Still nothing, but I have no doubt he's nearby.

_Your move, Fen'Harel._

A twig snaps some feet away and, though I know it was likely a calculated move, I start running again anyway. I come upon a clearing, intending to sprint across, when a dark shape slips out of the shadows. A large wolf. My reaction is much different than the first time I saw it. I grin with excitement, following the creature with my eyes as he circles. I take off as soon as I see an opening, but I only make it three strides before arms grab me, dragging me to the ground.

Fen'Harel pins me down and kisses me fiercely. _Interesting…_

He pulls away after only a few moments, panting against my lips. "You…" he doesn't finish the sentence, darting in to bite and suck a trail down the column of my throat. I tilt my head to allow further access even as my mind schemes. Inspiration strikes and I squeeze my eyes shut, envisioning something very specific and willing it into existence.

Solas halts, pulling back abruptly. "What…?"

I open my eyes and grin when I see the collar around his neck, a long leash tying him to a nearby tree. That alone is enough to have laughter bubbling in my chest, but the look on his face makes it that much better. Solas looks surprised and confused. I take the opportunity to scramble out from under him and stand.

"Didn't you read the sign, Fen? This isn't a leash-free park." A snorting laugh escapes as I turn and sprint into the trees.

My little trick will likely keep him occupied for only a few seconds, so I set a fast pace. Each rustle I hear has me running in the opposite direction. It's not until I reach a dead end, surrounded by rock walls on three sides, that I realize he's been herding me.

_Damn._

"Nowhere to run, _da'assan_ ," he taunts, stalking toward me in elf form. I retreat until my back hits stone, but all I feel is excitement. He places a hand on either side of me, trapping me there. He nuzzles my neck and nips at my ear. "Rhynn," he breathes into it and a shiver runs down my spine.

Solas flicks his tongue against the shell of my ear before kissing a path to my lips and claiming them. There's nothing gentle about the kiss. He tugs on my lower lip with his teeth, then soothes the sting with his tongue. I pant, feeling too warm. He captures my wrists, pinning them to the rock above my head with one hand and dipping the other under the hem of my shirt. Fingers dance across the skin of my abdomen and I squirm.

"You continue to surprise me, Rhynn," Solas murmurs against my cheek, hand skimming up my side, thumb caressing the underside of my breast. _Come on, just a little further._ "So clever…" The hand moves away and I huff in frustration. He just chuckles and kisses me again, tongue delving in to tangle with my own. 

He pulls away just enough to ease us to the forest floor, cradling the back of my head gently as he lays me down. His eyes dart over my face, studying. I smile softly and caress his cheek. Solas closes his eyes and leans into my touch. I trace his features, memorizing, before guiding his lips back to mine.

This kiss is different than the previous ones. No less passionate, but slower, more languid. Solas lowers himself onto me and I savor the feeling, wrapping my legs around his slender waist. 

"Weren't we going to do something?" I laugh breathlessly.

"It can wait," he growls and I hum in agreement, letting myself get lost in his touch.

Some time later, I lay my head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his torso. Solas draws lazy patterns on my back and plays with the ends of my hair.

"Now you know," Solas says out of nowhere and I can hear amusement in his tone.

"Know what?"

"Whether my backside is as pale as Varric claims," I glance up to see him grinning.

I drop my head back to his shoulder, laughing. "You're ridiculous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations taken from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen:
> 
> On nydha: Goodnight
> 
> Lethal'lan: Female kin
> 
> 'Ma falon: My friend
> 
> Da'len: Little child
> 
> Da'assan: Little arrow. An endearment used, usually for hunters, but can be used for anyone. Typically used to describe someone who is forthright, straight shooting, etc.


	32. Not a ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aliiiiiivvve! Kind of. Sorry about taking so long with this chapter. I've had zero motivation to write lately.
> 
> So I haven't played Trespasser yet (since I'm broke and can't afford an Xbox One *cries a little*), but I'm a weak, weak human being and looked at spoilers. That said, let this be a warning to ye that from here on out, this story could contain spoilers for the DLC. I plan on going back and changing a few things pertaining to the name thing. If you know what I'm talking about, good for you. If not, don't worry about it.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Me to Bioware: If I owned Dragon Age, I could afford to buy an Xbox One and play Tresspasser. You should give me DA.
> 
> Bioware: Sucks to suck, kid.

"Ah, Lady Rhynn!" An accented voice calls behind me and I turn to find Josephine approaching at a brisk pace. "I've been meaning to speak with you. Are you free at the moment?"

I glance around at the filled cots. "As I'll ever be," I respond dryly.

Josephine just gives a polite nod. "I was able locate Ghilani's clan." I feel a slow smile spread across my face. "I already made contact and they've agreed to come retrieve the child. They should arrive in two days' time."

"They want him back then? That's fantastic!" I exclaim, unable to contain my joy and relief.

Josephine smiles, too. "I wondered if you would be willing to greet them, since you know the boy better than anyone else here and speak a bit of their language."

"Yeah, I can do that," I agree, testing a patient's temperature with the back of my hand. I fetch a cup of water and help him sip at it.

"Also, we have decided to move your clinic into a building located in the upper courtyard, once construction is complete," Josephine adds as I set the cup aside.

I think I know which building she's referring to. "Does it have a lot of windows?"

The ambassador seems confused by my question. "Not any more than the other buildings, I suppose…"

"I need as much natural light as possible," I explain. "Candles aren't enough to see by for certain operations."

Josephine's face registers understanding. "Ah, I see. I shall inform the builders." She scribbles something down. "Are there any other specifications you require?"

I ponder the question for a moment. "I suppose running water is too much to ask for?" I joke, causing her to look confused once again. I smile wryly, "Never mind. No, there's nothing else I can think of."

"Very well, I shall leave you to your work. Good day."

 

* * *

 

As I pass through Skyhold's entryway, the conversation between two overdressed nobles catches my attention. I casually lean against the wall and listen in.

"Is that her? The Herald's advisor?" The woman mock-whispers.

"I thought the witch was her advisor." The man replies, sounding disinterested.

"They both are," she corrects, then her tone turns even snider. "The Inquisitor brings such interesting people into her confidence. Such… _commoners_. I hear they don't even know where the scarred one is from! Some far off land. Judging by the way she dresses and carries herself, the woman is obviously _not_ of noble birth."

I snort quietly. _Really?_

The man scoffs delicately. "And she's courting that strange elven apostate. A human and a _mage elf_! Disgusting!"

My brows snap together and I push away from the wall.

_I shouldn't…_

I walk over to the couple and clear my throat politely, a sharp smile on my face. "Actually, I'm an alien from another planet sent here to take samples for my queen. This isn't even my true form." I cluck my tongue, "Really now. If you're going to talk shit, you should at least _try_ getting your facts straight."

They stare at me like I just spoke another language, which, from their perspective, I suppose I did. I don't wait for them to gain composure, turning and heading for the rotunda.

"You shouldn't encourage them."

I pause, hand on the door, and look over at Varric. Though his words were clearly teasing, there's something… off about him. I move away from the door and sit at the table.

"Eh," I shrug. "I know, but I couldn't help myself." Varric's smile is weak. "All right, what's up?"

Varric studies my face before lowering his gaze to the tabletop, deliberating. "It's Bianca. She came to visit me. _Here._ " He sighs and rubs his face. "I don't know how much you know, but that in itself is worrying."

A hazy memory surfaces. "Ah…" I rub my forearm and cast him a nervous glance.

Varric's eyes narrow shrewdly and then he sighs again. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

"She was here about the red lyrium, right?" He nods. "Yeah… um…" I wince, now picking at the scar on my forearm. "I think she's lying to you."

"About what?" Varric asks, then holds up a hand. "Wait." The skin around his eyes tightens, making him look older. His shoulders slump, adding to the effect. "Shit…she's the leak."

It's not a question. He knows. But I confirm it anyway. "Yes, I believe so. Unless I'm misremembering."

"Nah… I don't think you are…" I've never seen Varric like this. It's disconcerting.

His disappointment turns to anger. "Damn it! I told her what happened to Bartrand! I told her to stay away!" I remain silent. Just as quickly as it came, the anger dissipates, leaving only some mix of emotions I can't begin to understand. "Excuse me." He stands and heads for the exit.

_I hate this…_ I feel as if all I do anymore is give people bad news.

After a minute or two, I stand and enter the rotunda to find Solas pacing. _Rhynn Torpin, Inquisition therapist._ He doesn't seem to notice me as I approach, jumping slightly when I lay a hand on his arm.

He offers me a distracted smile. " _An'eth'ara_."

" _Savhalla_ … What's wrong, Solas?"

"Just… thinking."

The image of a broken orb flashes through my mind again, but I brush it aside and grin. "Ah, well that explains it. Don't strain yourself." I pat his shoulder in mock condescension. That finally draws a genuine, if small, smile out of him.

"What are your plans for the evening?" Solas asks politely, the look on his face making it clear that I won't be getting an answer out of him any time soon. _Fine._

"I was hoping I could just hang out here, read a bit. If you don't mind."

"You are always welcome."

We end up on the couch, him reading, my head in his lap. I examine the colorful walls, idly twirling a lock of hair around my finger.

"I meant what I said, you know," I break the silence. "About your art." I gesture toward the wall. Solas gives me a curious look. "That one time I made a poor attempt at covering for the fact that I'd been staring at your ass," I clarify.

Solas' lips twitch, "I noticed."

I roll my eyes and smile, sitting up. "Of course you did." I stand and reach a hand out to trace the bold lines. "Really, though. These are incredible!"

I see him grin out of the corner of my eye. " _'Ma serannas_."

I start at the beginning of the story and make my way around the room, studying each fresco in depth. Something in the last one strikes me as odd, though. I expected it to be about the Wardens, not… whatever this is. There's only one discernibly human figure in the image. A woman, I think, though I can't be sure. A large, abstract form hovers threateningly above her and, despite the sparse facial features, she somehow manages to look defiant. Brave.

_That… no, that can't be._ My mind rebels.

"Solas…"

"Yes?" he replies distractedly.

I swallow. "What's… what's this one about?" I ask, almost inaudibly.

There's a pause where I can hear my heart beating. Pages rustle.

"You."

Just one word. My chest constricts and my vision blurs.

"Ah. That's…" I clear my throat awkwardly. _He painted me. Oh God._ Solas is silent, patiently waiting for me to finish my sentence. I don't. I plaster on some semblance of a smile and turn to face him. "You know, I should probably get back to the clinic. I need to check on my patients." Solas' placid look turns to one of confusion, but I slip out of the room before he can question me.

**_Running again? How surprising._ **

"Shut up," I hiss under my breath and walk faster.

I really do return to the clinic, but there's not much that needs to be done. I settle for cleaning and organizing. I try to lose myself in the menial tasks, but my brain won't shut off.

_So what if he painted me? It's not a big deal. I did a couple sketches of him._

**_Except it's not just a painting, is it?_ **

I drop my face into my palms and groan. _It's a mural. A giant, fucking mural that he painted when he thought I was dead._

"Fuck."

If anyone should be aware of actions and consequences, it's me. And yet, I've managed to delude myself into thinking that I was somehow above it all. Not in a haughty way. No… more like, up until this moment, I saw myself as outside the story. A ghost drifting through, throwing lamps off of tables to get the attention of the characters when need be. Seeing that fresco… I realize now how wrong I am. I've become a character in this story. Except it's not a story and these aren't characters I'm interacting with. They're _people_ , with actual thoughts and feelings. And I've let myself become deeply entangled with one of them.

_What the hell am I doing?_

**_Told you so._ **

"No, no…" I shake my head. "I'm making a big deal out of nothing. We're friends. Friends can totally paint each other." I'm doing a shit job of convincing myself.

" _Hahren_."

I whirl around, heart hammering. "Shit!" Ghilani just stands there, blinking up at me innocently. Too innocently. Despite the sleepy droop to his eyelids, it's hard to miss the smug smile fighting to break free.

"You really shouldn't enjoy that so much," I scold, only half-serious. The imp just smiles serenely. "What are you doing awake, Ghillie?" It's late, at least for kids who should be sound asleep.

The smile disappears and he wrings the fabric of his tunic between small fingers. "I couldn't sleep."

I hum in understanding and sit on a cot, patting the space beside me. He hops up and curls into my side. "Why can't you sleep?"

Ghillie doesn't respond right away, but then he buries his face in my arm and mumbles, "What if the Keeper doesn't want me back?"

I wiggle my arm free and wrap it around him in a one-armed hug. "But your clan _does_ want you back," I reply. "That's why they're coming to get you."

"But what if they change their minds?"

"That's not going to happen, _da'len_ ," I give a reassuring squeeze. "Have _you_ changed your mind about going with them?"

"No!" he shoots up straight, tone vehement. I give a little smile at the reaction.

"Then everything's going to be fine."

We sit in silence for a while and, just as I think he's finally starting to doze off, "Will you come visit?"

I feel something in my chest give a tug. _Crap._ "I can certainly try, but I won't always know where your clan is." No point in trying to explain that I won't even be on this planet much longer.

"Oh…"

"You'll be all right. You're smart and strong and you have your whole clan to keep you company," I attempt to cheer him up and he offers me a small smile, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I'm gonna miss you, Rhynn," he murmurs sleepily.

I run a hand over his hair and rub soothing circles on his back. "I'll miss you, too. Get some sleep, _da'sa_."

 

* * *

 

"Elbow up, breath held… release."

The shot flies wide, just grazing the dummy's head and striking the wood wall behind. "Damn."

Someone nearby blows a raspberry. "You're doing it all wrong!"

My eyes dart up to the source of the voice. Sera is laying on the roof outside her room at the tavern, legs propped up against the wall and glaring at me upside down.

I raise an eyebrow and quirk my lips. "Then don't bitch at me from up there. Come show me how it's done!" I challenge. Sera groans and rolls her eyes and doesn't move.

"All right, let's try again," Rorin pipes up, sounding amused.

I sigh and focus back on the target, lining up my shot. The arrow actually hits the dummy this time, but nowhere near where I was aiming. I hear another noise to my left, but ignore it.

"Your elbow still isn't quite in the right position," Rorin says gently and demonstrates the correct posture once again.

"Knives are so much better," I grumble and try again. Before I can loose another arrow, small, bony fingers clamp down on my shoulders. "The fuck?!"

The hands move my shoulders, "These, here." _Sera?_ I didn't even realize she wasn't on the roof anymore. She grabs my hips next and I try not to squirm. "And these, like this." She changes the position of my elbow. "And don't listen to this ninny-face about elbows. It's bulltits, what he said."

"Hey!" Rorin sounds genuinely offended. He obviously hasn't encountered Sera before.

"Pull your knickers out of your arse. I'm just saying." She slaps my stomach. "Suck it in. You can't expect an arrow to be an arrow if you're all wibbly." Sera leans in, looking very serious. "Don't be wibbly, Torpy."

"Oh God! No!" _Torpy? Fuck no._

Sera gives a smug smirk. "Exactly! Wibbly people get arrows stuck in bad places."

" _Not_ what I was saying 'no' to…" I mumble.

"Well, go on!"

With a put-upon sigh, I do as Sera instructs. She gives me a few more pointers that I kind of understand before letting me try again. This time, the arrow is only slightly off target.

I throw my hands in the air, "Woo! Yeah!" I turn to Sera with a smile. "You should give lessons!"

Sera makes a face and some sort of crass noise as she slinks backwards through the open door of the tavern.

"I'll take that as a no." I look back at Rorin, "Hey, sorry she took over." He's not even listening. He's gazing at the doorway Sera disappeared through. I snort loudly. "Don't even bother, Rorin." I line up another shot.

"What?" Rorin replies a little too quickly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're not her type." I let another arrow fly and it lands close to the previous.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I just raise an eyebrow in response. It takes him a few seconds. "Ohhhh!" Surprise and understanding. Then, "Oh…" Disappointment. I give him a consoling pat on the arm.

                                                                  

* * *

 

"Dagnaaaaaaa!"

"Rhyyyynnnn!"

I lean against the workbench. "So…?"

Dagna grins and clears her throat importantly. "It is… finished!" She reaches for the cloth covering the object in question.

"Wait!" She pauses at my cry. "This calls for a drumroll." I stand up and patter my hands on the wooden bench, nodding for her to continue.

Dagna whisks the cloth away, revealing a glimmering metal object. The angels start singing at its sheer beauty. Not really. That's just me, and I sound nothing like an angel.

"Isn't it incredible?!" She practically squeals. "It's incredible!" She starts bouncing in her seat. "You would not _believe_ the things you can see with it! Or maybe you would! But I've never seen anything like it! I keep putting samples under it and each one is different and _amazing_!" Dagna doesn't even pause to take a breath in her excitement.

I give a carefree laugh. "Well, can I see?"

"Of course! I already have something for you to look at!" She places a piece of glass beneath the scope. It looks a bit like a microscope slide. I didn't even tell her about those. _This girl!_ I can't help but stare at her in wonder.

"What? What is it? Is there something on my face again? I have a bad habit of touching my face when I'm working on –"

I hold up a hand to stop her rambling. "No, there's nothing on your face. You're just brilliant."

"Oh," she blushes and smiles. "Thank you!"

"All right, how does it work?" I ask, examining the contraption.

Dagna points to the different components and explains what they do. "…and just turn these nobs here to focus."

The base of the microscope is glowing somehow. I'm guessing a rune of some kind. _That's so cool!_ I hold my face close to the eyepiece and look through it. It's just a blur until I begin messing with the nobs. It takes a bit, but eventually I see something. Well, a lot of somethings… swimming around with their little flagella and cilia.

"Hello you adorable little assholes," I breathe. I can't stop smiling.

"Are you crying?"

I don't notice the tears running down my face until Dagna points it out. I pull back just enough to wipe them away. "This is just really exciting!" Dagna hums perkily in agreement. "I wonder if the microscopic organisms here are different because of magic…" I attempt to spot any differences, but it's hard to tell without a comparison.

"Ooh! Do you think there might be some inside of you that we could use as comparison?!"

_It's like she's inside my mind!_ "Probably!" I reply excitedly. "Though who knows what else I've picked up over the years…"

"We can look at it all!"

"Yeah! Oh, Dagna, you brilliant, incredible, amazing person, you!" I hold her face in my hands and plant a loud, dramatic kiss to her forehead. "I have so much to tell you! I bet you'd find DNA fascinating!"

"I'm already intrigued!"

"I can finally teach the other healers about cells!" I exclaim and then gasp. "Solas!" I dart for the exit. "I'll be right back, Dagna!"

"I'll be here!" She's already looking through the scope.

I can barely refrain from running through the halls of Skyhold. I burst into the rotunda. "Solas!" I seem to have interrupted a conversation between him and Dorian and both men turn in surprise.

"Rhynn," Dorian greets jovially, "what a pleasant surprise!"

"What is it?" Solas looks slightly concerned. Considering I haven't spoken to him since the Fresco Incident a few days prior, he's probably rather confused right now, too. _Oops._

"The microscope! It's done! Come on!" I bounce on my toes a little and his eyes dart down to them in bemusement. _Note to self: Perky Rhynn may be used to confuse elf god in future._

"Well then," Solas follows with smiling eyes. I grab his hand and march us back towards the undercroft.

"Dagna is seriously a genius! She knew to make transparent slides without me telling her and the way she fine-tuned the focus nobs using magic is beyond impressive!" Solas just smiles and lets me chatter.

"Mind if I tag along?" Dorian pipes up to my right. I get the feeling he'd ignore me if I said no.

"The more the merrier," I reply with a grin.

Dagna is waiting for us when we arrive, hands held out to showcase her masterpiece like that one gameshow lady. _Veronica? Vera? Valla? Whatever…_

I notice there's still a slide in place and practically shove Solas onto the stool. "Just look through the eyepiece here and use these nobs to adjust the focus."

Solas doesn't wait for further instruction, eager to see for himself what I've been telling him about for weeks. Dorian waits a few feet behind us, attempting to look nonchalant. When Solas makes a small sound of discovery, the Tevinter mage gives up the pretense entirely, crowding close with a look of excitement.

"What? What do you see?"

"This…" Solas lets out a short, joyful laugh. "This is _incredible_!"

Dagna bounces on the balls of her feet and claps her hands. Dorian is starting to look impatient.

"All right, kids, take turns," I tease.

Solas lingers a moment longer, reluctant to relinquish his spot. His backside has barely vacated the seat before Dorian is sliding into place. The undercroft is silent for a moment while he absorbs whatever it is he's seeing through the microscope. Then, he suddenly pulls back.

"What – " He ducks his head to the side to examine the glass slide, then looks back through the microscope. Then he looks at us with a bewildered expression and I can't help but laugh. "What? How?"

"This is a microscope," I explain, "and it lets you see things that are really small." I know his scholarly mind won't settle for such a simple explanation, though, so I elaborate. "It uses a series of glass lenses to do so," I grab one such lens from the pile of leftovers on the bench and hand it to Dorian. He takes the object and turns it over in his hands.

"And a lot of runes!" Dagna pipes up and I incline my head in acknowledgment.

" _Fascinating_." He takes another look through the microscope. "What am I seeing, though?"

"Microscopic organisms," I reply. "Creatures too small to see with the naked eye."

Dorian's eyes widen and then turn calculating. "Might I be correct in assuming these creatures are everywhere, then?"

I nod, smiling. "A lot of them are smaller than the ones you're seeing there, though. I think that's a drop of water from a puddle…?" I glance at Dagna for confirmation.

"Yep! I'm still working on the magnification power," Dagna adds.

"You'll get it." We grin at each other.

Dorian looks through the eyepiece once again. "What are these structures?"

I move closer. "You'll have to elaborate."

He does and I explain as best I can. The four of us spend hours down there, taking turns with the microscope and looking at the different samples Dagna has collected. I mention my theory that the organisms might be different here because of magic and that starts a discussion that lasts another few hours. None of us even notice that we miss both lunch _and_ dinner. Not until Josephine sends someone to check if we're still alive.

It feels really good to be a part of something like this again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An'eth'ara, Savhalla: Informal greetings
> 
> Da'sa: little one


	33. Get Daisy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people! Thank you all for the continued support! Here's the next chapter, and it's a long one. I hope it makes up for the fact that I'm probably going to take quite a while to post again. I've been sick and I've got some catching up to do in my classes.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Still not mine.

My stomach grumbles angrily and audibly. _Foooood…_

"I think this is a good place to stop for the day, hm?" I'm packing away the diagrams even before I complete the sentence. "Any questions?" To my displeasure, five hands shoot into the air. _But… food._ I work to keep the frown off of my face and point to one of them.

"So… we're just a jumble of smaller creatures?" The man sounds quite concerned.

I swallow my laughter. _Don't be an asshole, Rhynn._ "No," I reply. "Each cell is alive, yes, but not self-sustaining. It needs the rest of the cells in the body to stay that way."

The man nods and hands raise again. I point to a woman this time.

"How does each cell know what to do?"

"That question is much too complicated to answer at the moment. We'll get into that eventually, but suffice it to say they follow a code… of sorts…"

A few hands go down at that answer and I sigh a little in relief. Just one remains and I roll my eyes good-naturedly when I realize who it is.

"Yes, Dagna?" I chuckle.

"Oh, I don't have a question. I just wanted to say that I can keep the microscope out for a little longer if anyone's interested in taking another look. I brought more samples!" She bounces a little on her toes.

"Thanks, Dagna," I give her a grateful smile and finish packing up. Quite a few people line up for the microscope and that makes me all bubbly inside. Either that or I'm just really hungry. _Probably the latter._

"Food," I whisper giddily and head for the tavern. I order whatever the dwarf behind the bar has available and pause on my way to a table, glancing up thoughtfully.

I climb the stairs, balancing a plate in one hand and a mug in the other, winding my way through the crowds. _Busy night._

I pause at the top of the stairs to catch my breath. I could walk for days on flat ground, but stairs are a pain in the ass.

"Hello."

I glance to the right and smile, "Hey there." I walk over to Cole and take a seat on one of the benches, setting my food down beside me. "Join me?"

"I don't eat."

My eyes crinkle in amusement. "I'm not asking you to eat, Cole. I just wanted to talk."

Cole sits on the other end of the bench, "What about?"

"You."

"Me?"

I huff a laugh. "Yes. How are you doing?"

"I'm…" he trails off into contemplative silence. "I'm all right. Everything is more real now. _I'm_ more real. Sometimes that hurts." I wince in sympathy. I don't like the thought of him in pain. "And I can't help as many people as I used to. They can see me now."

"Isn't Varric helping you?" I ask, recalling the times I've seen the two of them wandering Skyhold together.

"Yes… but it's not the same. Nothing is."

He sounds upset and my heart gives a squeeze. "We knew it wouldn't be," I sigh softly. "Do you… do you regret it?"

Cole's eyes snap up to mine in surprise. "No!" A smile breaks across his face and it makes me feel warm. "There are so many new things to learn!" His gaze becomes distant. "A girl with hair of flame. Petals of sky. They remind her of home. She hands them to me and smiles." He comes back to the tavern gradually, then looks at me with his head cocked. "Why does she smile at me like that?"

I bite my lip to contain the grin that wants to escape and don't really succeed. "One of the great mysteries of life," I tease and Cole looks more confused. "She probably thought you were cute," I finally answer.

"Cute? Like nugs? I think nugs are cute."

"Yeah, maybe," I chuckle, shaking my head minutely. Unbidden, an image of a nug roasting over a fire pops into my mind. _Shit!_ I try to think of something else, but that works about as well as can be expected. Cole stares at me with wide eyes. "Hey, don't judge," I grumble. "I had to eat _something_." Cole just blinks, but I get the feeling I'm forgiven. "Don't tell Leliana," I add mischievously. "She already doesn't like me."

"Leliana doesn't dislike you," Cole responds seriously. "Not anymore. Watching, wary, wondering… but she admires your strength."

"Oh," I cough awkwardly and stuff a piece of bread in my mouth. "Well…" I mumble around the food.

Cole and I sit quietly for a bit while I eat.

"I haven't seen you around the clinic in a while," I finally say, curious. "Does it still hurt to be around me?"

"No," he replies quietly. His legs, which had been swinging back and forth, still and his voice becomes an eerie mimicry of my own. "Maybe the two of us can work together. I'll heal the physical stuff and you take care of the mental." _That's a bit disconcerting…_

I purse my lips, contemplating. _He thinks he can't take care of the mental aspect anymore._ "Let's heal the physical and mental stuff together, then," I finally propose and Cole offers me a small smile.

* * *

"It's not just a matter of physical appearance or behavior. Their genetic code could differ immensely from their counterparts on other planets," I interject from where I'm sprawled out on the couch. Well, 'couch' doesn't quite cover it. Solas got a new one in the rotunda and it's more like a daybed than a sofa. Thus allowing said sprawling. _So comfy._

Dagna is seated on the floor, a ring of books spread out around her, and Solas is seated at his desk. Dorian leans over the second-story railing to look at me.

"You know, you never did explain exactly what that is. We can hardly concede your point if we don't understand the basis," Dorian argues, tossing a large book at me. It slams into my stomach and I let out a groan, glaring up at him. I open my mouth to retort.

"Lady Rhynn!"

I glance over to the door to find a harried young man beckoning me. I set the book aside and walk over. "What is it?"

"Clan Valen has arrived. Lady Montilyet sent me to fetch you," the boy rushes through the words, slightly out of breath.

My stomach flutters and not in a pleasant way. "Oh. Right. Tell her I'll be right there." The boy nods and runs off as I turn to face the others in the room. "Okay, yeah." I scrub my hands over my face.

"Stop worrying, Rhynn," Solas chides with a small smirk. "I can assure you they speak far less elven than you."

"I'm not good with people," I argue, running a hand through my hair. "I'm going to get nervous and accidentally tell them to do something anatomically impossible! Just you wait!"

"You'll be fine," Dagna chimes in with a grin. "I mean, that sweet little boy is from this clan, right? They can't be _that_ bad!"

"Dagna, they kicked him and his mother out," I remind her with a flat look.

"Oh," her face falls for half a second before that sunny smile returns. "I'm sure everything is going to be fine!"

I curse under my breath and wipe a hand over my face again. "Okay, here goes nothing. Wish me luck!" Dagna's the only one who does so. The other two are assholes.

I hurry for the lower courtyard, hoping I'm not too late. As I descend the last set of steps, I see them. Josephine is talking to a group of five Dalish elves. They seem to be hunters, fit and proud, carrying an assortment of bows and knives.

Taking a deep breath, I make myself known. " _An'daran atish'an. Nuvenan ma son."_

One woman steps forward, chin held high. " _Enaste. Nuvenan ma tas son."_ She pauses, forehead wrinkled. "I must say, it is surprising to hear our language from the mouth of a _shemlen_." It is not said unkindly, but neither is it said kindly.

"I would imagine so," I reply with a slightly forced smile. "I'm Rhynn, Inquisition healer and sometimes-advisor. Welcome to _Tarasyl'an Tel'as_."

"I am Pala of Clan Valen," she inclines her head slightly. Another pause, then, "Where is Ghilani?"

I glance over at the clinic. A little head pokes out between the flaps of a tent and I beckon him over. After a second or two of hesitation, he scurries over and latches onto my leg.

The woman's face lights up. "Lani! ' _Ma'iovru!_ _"_

Ghillie's eyes spark with recognition and he lets go of my leg, stepping closer to the woman. "Pala?"

"Yes _,_ _da'len_ _."_

Ghillie squeals and throws himself into her waiting arms. She hugs him tightly, eyes closed. I can only assume she must be a relative or close family friend. I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face, even if I wanted to.

Pala glances up at me. _"_ _'_ _Ma serannas_ _,"_ she says sincerely and stands, still holding Ghillie. "Your ambassador informed us of how you watched over Lani."

 _"_ _De da'rahn_ _,"_ I reply, smiling softly at the little boy in her arms.

"It is time for us to go," Pala announces. "The day is short and we have far to travel. " _Tuelanen ama na, shem._ _"_ The word is said with a bit more warmth this time and a smirk. I'm well aware that she's being slightly sarcastic with that blessing. The irony of it is also not lost on me.

 _"_ _Nuva es'an ama tas i'na,"_ I reply softly. _"_ _Dar'eth shiral,"_ I say to the whole group and they turn to leave.

Ghillie waves at me over Pala's shoulder. "Bye, Rhynn!"

I wave back, tears welling in my eyes. "Bye, little buddy."

As we watch them pass under the portcullis, Josephine speaks. "The business we conduct is not always pleasant, but moments like this make up for it."

"Yeah," I sigh. They do. I face her and point to my red, watery eyes. "You didn't see this."

Josephine purses her lips in an attempt to hide a smile. "Of course not, Lady Rhynn."

"It's just 'Rhynn,' Josephine," I correct.

"Rhynn," she repeats, letting that smile free.

* * *

It's been a very long and trying few days. As the sun slips out of sight beyond Skyhold's walls, all I really want to do is flop onto the nearest empty cot and sleep for a week. A group of severely wounded soldiers was brought in about two days ago and I haven't slept since.

I weave between the cots, doing a last check of my patients. One of the other healers, a young woman with blonde hair, is changing bandages. She looks up as I pass and gives me a tired, half-hearted smile.

"You're doing a good job, Ella," I tell her quietly. "Finish up and get some rest, okay?" She nods. "I'm going to go wash up, but I'll be back." I leave then, intending to rinse off as much as I can, but a politely cleared throat stops me.

"Lady Rhynnara, a moment of your time." I turn to see Vivienne watching me expectantly. Her gaze rakes over me and her nose wrinkles slightly. "Though perhaps you will want to clean up first, my dear. Meet me on the balcony once you are presentable." She starts to leave and, in my disbelief, I almost can't find the words to stop her.

"Oh-hoh, no," I give a mirthless chuckle. "Just wait a minute." _Deep breaths, Rhynn. Deep breaths._ I drag a ragged breath in through my nose, feeling my face start to heat up. "First of all, I have been awake for over _forty-eight hours_ at this point. I'm covered in God knows what. And while you've been sitting pretty up on your throne, I've been down here trying to _save the lives_ of seven people who never asked for any of this! Four of those people _died_ on my watch! So my apologies, _Madame_ Vivienne, if I don't live up to your _expectations_ _._ Second," I hold up two fingers, "once I'm done washing, I'm going to go back to the clinic and fall asleep on the first empty cot. So whatever you want to say to me, you can either say it now or wait." I drop my hand and clench it into a fist at my side.

Vivienne doesn't respond right away and, maybe it's just the sleep deprivation, but she almost looks shocked. Before I can decide either way, her face is expressionless once more.

"Surely such drama is unnecessary, and certainly _highly_ unbecoming." I'm sure Vivienne intended her words to scald, but I'm too tired to care. "I merely wished to inform you that I was able to create a formula which will extend Bastien's life by a few more years."

My hands unclench and I sigh. That's probably as close to a 'thanks' as I'll ever get from the woman. "That's good to hear," I reply. "If that's all…?" I gesture toward the water pump.

"Yes," she inclines her head regally. "Good evening, my dear."

"You, too." I start dragging my feet to the faucet when a thought pops into my head. I groan audibly at myself for it and turn around. "Vivienne, wait!"

She pauses on the stairs and glances over her shoulder. _"_ _Madame_ Vivienne," she corrects.

I snort, "Right. Of course. Um… I could take a look at him." One of her eyebrows arches and I hurry to elaborate, gesturing awkwardly with my hands. "You know, provide a different perspective, maybe find something the other healers missed."

Vivienne smiles condescendingly. "I hardly think there is anything you may find that the finest healers in all Orlais could not, but I appreciate the thought, my dear."

"You know that's not true," I insist before she can turn away. "I have knowledge those healers don't."

She fixes me with a long, contemplative look. "Very well. I will arrange for us to travel to the estate within the month." She starts ascending the stairs again.

"One condition, though," she stops again at my words but doesn't turn. "Well, not really a condition. I'll do my best to treat the Duke either way, but I'd like it if you started coming to my lessons." Vivienne turns at that, eyebrows raised. "I can do all the tests I like, but it's not going to help him if you don't understand me when I start throwing around terms like 'white blood cell count.'"

Vivienne's eyes sparkle slightly in the dim light, the corner of her mouth curved upwards. "The cells in the body that are part of the immune system," she states coolly.

My lips part in astonishment. "What…? How do you know that?" I was sure I hadn't seen her at a single lesson.

Vivienne's smirk grows, "I have my ways, darling."

I splutter a little and shake my head. "Well, as long as you get the information somehow and understand it…" I shrug. I glance down at the dried vomit on my shirt and cringe. "I'd really like to get cleaned up now, though. Goodnight, _Madame_ Vivienne." I give a tired grin and a slightly mocking bow.

Vivienne inclines her head once more and we part ways.

* * *

Upon entering the war room, the presence of a black-haired woman draws me up short. _Who…?_ The woman glances at me sideways. Yellow eyes rake over me from head to toe and find me lacking. I can almost feel myself shrinking under such an intense gaze. _Morrigan._ It's a wonder I didn't recognize her immediately. It suddenly occurs to me how strange it is that I haven't seen her around Skyhold before this moment. _Does she just keep to herself?_

I look her over, as well. The rugged ensemble she wears really suits her. And it seems Real-Morrigan has more sense than Game-Morrigan, considering the lack of exposed skin.

"Ah, the famed seer joins us at last," Morrigan remarks wryly. If I remember correctly, though, she doesn't really have any other setting. _She has a nice voice though_. Memories of a different black-haired woman flash through my mind, along with aliens and spaceships, and I can't quite recall what they pertain to.

I push my thoughts aside and focus on the present. "Nice to meet you, too," I snark and lean against the wall.

"That remains to be seen," she replies archly and turns away.

"Shall we begin?" Josephine asks politely and the others nod.

As per usual, I let them discuss matters and only half-listen, letting my mind wander. And, as has become a habit of late, my thoughts turn to a certain elf.

Since our last… dalliance in the Fade – I feel my face heating at just the thought – nothing else of that nature has happened between the two of us. I'm somewhat divided on whether I want it to happen again. On the one hand, it was incredible. Solas certainly knows what he's doing with his hands and mouth. _Again with the blushing!_ And it's been a _very_ long time since my body has seen any action at all, even by my own hand. Even so, there's a part of me that rails against the thought of doing anything more. Solas is already so important to me. I'm not sure I can keep myself emotionally uninvested if I continue down that path… don't know if I'd be able to just let go when the time comes. And _that_ is unacceptable. There's no choice for me. I _will_ have to let him go. _I shouldn't make this any worse for myself but…_ I picture him now, and the way he smiles with his eyes. His happiness is such a rare and fleeting thing. I feel like I've truly accomplished something when I get him to laugh and the sound always does strange things to my insides. It's sultry and enchanting and highly addictive. Actually, that describes his voice in general. I could listen to him talk for hours. _And frequently do._ And if he's passionate about the topic… well, it's a potent combination. In such moments, I often feel like a moth drawn to the flame.

_Heh. Flame, passion. I'm so clever._

I shake my head in exasperation, shifting my position against the wall and picking absently-mindedly at my cuticles. Drawn out of mooning by my own weird brain, my thoughts take a different turn. As much as I love Solas' passion for the Fade and all things elfy – _Elfy? I sound like Sera_ – it tends to make him very… focused. Sometimes that worries me. I don't know exactly what he has planned for this world but my gut tells me it won't necessarily be for the good of all. The thought of anything happening to these people I've come to care for doesn't settle well.

**_You won't be here to do anything about it._ **

_Maybe not… but there is one thing I do have some control over._

I still haven't told Solas about his orb. I wonder what he would do if I told him. Possibly something drastic. _Probably. The man doesn't do anything by half_. _But should I keep this from him?_

"Lady Rhynn!"

My head jerks up and I glance around. Aila, the advisors, and Morrigan are all staring at me expectantly.

I clear my throat and stand up straight. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"Were you paying attention to _any_ of this?" Josephine asks exasperatedly.

"Uh…" is my highly intelligent response. _No, sorry, I was too busy daydreaming about my… what the fuck do I call him? Lover?_ I cringe. _No, too sleazy._

"Clearly," Morrigan drawls, "she has better things to think about than saving the world. Why, exactly, is she here again?"

 _Well, that is just rude!_ I open my mouth to sass her back when something occurs to me and a slow, devilish smile spreads across my face. "I make you nervous."

Morrigan raises a sharp eyebrow. "An interesting analysis, to be sure. I would be _so very interested_ in hearing your reasoning." And then she abruptly turns her back on me to face the war table once more.

 _Gotchya._ "You're worried about how much I know," I step closer, still smiling. "I can assure you, Morrigan," I lean in and whisper, "I know enough." Her eyes cut to me briefly before shifting away.

Someone clears their throat loudly and I look to the source of the sound to find Aila watching us and looking rather unamused. _Oops._

"Sorry to interrupt," she says insincerely, "but we're kind of in the middle of something. If you're done, I'd like to continue with it."

I give her a chagrined grimace, "Sorry."

"Thank you," Aila nods. "Now, since you apparently spent the whole meeting gathering wool," I receive a pointed glance at this, "I'll give you the gist of it. We're trying to figure out Corypheus' next move. Morrigan believes it might involve his strange interest in elven ruins. Do you have any insight you'd like to share?"

I sift through my memories, looking for anything that might be of value. "Well," I begin after a long moment, "if it involves elven ruins, you might – and no offense here," I say as an aside to Morrigan, "but you might want the advice of an _elf._ " _And there are things Solas can't tell you without raising suspicions._

Morrigan scoffs, "The knowledge the Dalish possess is flawed. They are blinded by worship of ancient beings that may never have existed at all!" I snort a bit at that. _Hon, your own mother is one of those beings. Oh…_ I blanch slightly. _Is that something I should tell her…?_ I feel like Flemeth would somehow know, though, and smite me on the spot. I glance around warily.

"Morrigan," Aila interjects and the witch huffs, crossing her arms. "Rhynn, please continue."

"I think you should bring in Merrill."

Cullen's eyebrows raise in surprise. "That silly Dalish girl that followed Hawke around?" he asks incredulously.

"Silly she may be, but she also fixed a broken Eluvian all by herself," I point out and Morrigan actually looks slightly impressed. "I think there's a lot the two of you could learn from one another," I tell her honestly.

Morrigan's eyes narrow and she turns to Aila. "Inquisitor, my expertise is more than adequate concerning this matter."

"I have no doubt, Morrigan," Aila replies with some humor, "but a second opinion never hurts."

"Varric should know how to make contact," Josephine adds. "I will speak to him immediately."

And with that, it seems the issue is settled for now. The meeting soon wraps up and we trickle out one by one. I notice Morrigan leaving and hurry to catch up.

"Hey, hold up a sec!" I call and she sighs loudly, turning to face me.

"What is it now?"

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened in there," I gesture back toward the war room. "I can't resist a sarcastic challenge," I joke but she just stares at me, eyebrow raised and mouth pursed. "I'll tell you what I told everyone else: your secrets are safe with me. I have no interest in gossip. But if you're interested, I'd be happy to tell you what I know."

Morrigan curls her lip, "I do believe I shall pass on the offer."

"Fair enough," I shrug, beginning to walk away. "If you change your mind, though, you know where to find me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations taken from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen:
> 
> An'daran atish'an: Greetings, Welcome, The place you go is a safe place
> 
> Nuvenan ma son: Hope you are well
> 
> Enaste: Grace
> 
> Nuvenan ma tas son: I hope you are also well
> 
> 'Ma'iovru: My bear cub, my baby bear
> 
> Tuelanen ama na: Creators protect you
> 
> Nuva es'an ama tas i'na: May they protect you as well
> 
> Dar'eth shiral: Go safely on your journey


	34. Hallelujah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about taking a long time to post the next chapter. I know, you all must be so upset with me lol.
> 
> Okay, I just have to say that I am so thankful for all the people that continue to read this story. When I posted the first chapter, I never thought it would get this much attention. Sometimes, when I start thinking that I'm fooling myself into believing my writing isn't complete trash, I remember the nice things people have said in their comments and feel a lot better. Seriously, comments bring me life! Please don't hesitate to leave one. I love getting feedback of any kind. So let me know if there's anything you like, dislike, or want to see in this story.
> 
> The songs in this chapter are, by order of appearance, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen and Hallelujah (originally by Leonard Cohen, but my favorite versions are by Jeff Buckley and Kate Voegele).
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine and all that jazz.

I roll onto my side and watch the shadows flicker over Solas' face. He's preoccupied at the moment. Whatever it is he's reading, it must be fascinating. I take the opportunity to study him, letting my eyes trail over each feature.

_Nobody should have a profile that nice._

I remember reading something, years ago, about not trusting people who look good in profile. Maybe there's some truth to that.

He has a very elven nose; a tall bridge that continues straight down from his forehead. It's intriguing, and my fingers itch to touch. Instead, I drag my eyes lower. His lips are relaxed and slightly parted. And they are, as usual, perfect. The naturally curved corners make him look like he's always mildly amused. I find it far sexier than I'd like to admit.

My tongue flicks out to wet my own somewhat chapped lips as I recall the taste and feel of that gorgeous mouth. I finally give into temptation and press a quick peck to the corner. The curve becomes slightly more pronounced, but he gives no other acknowledgment.

 _A_ very _fascinating book, then._

I pull back and continue my perusal, following the slope of his jaw upwards to the lobe of his ear. I reach out and trace the edge, all the way to the tip. It twitches slightly and I smirk, continuing to trace the details with a blunt fingernail.

 _Elves. Honest-to-God elves._ Pointed ears stopped throwing me off about five minutes after I first saw them, but it's still a bit surreal sometimes. I'm a human from a culture obsessed with elves and here I am, lying in bed with one like it's an everyday occurrence.

_Probably because it is._

The ear twitches again and Solas finally flicks his eyes over to me. "You make it rather difficult to concentrate, you know."

I grin and drape my leg over his, placing my lips close to his cheek. "That's kind of the point," I purr.

Solas chuckles and studies my face briefly. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you're entirely too attractive. It's suspicious."

He laughs loudly at that, shakes his head, and goes back to reading. An idea comes to me, then. A devious, incredible, terribly wonderful idea. My brain tries to remind me of the trepidation I felt only yesterday, but I brush it aside. _It's just a bit of fun._

"What are you reading, anyway?" I ask before placing small, meticulous kisses to the shell of his ear.

Solas hums distractedly, though I think it's more from the book than me. _Soon, you stubborn man._ "A somewhat commendable dissertation on the Veil," he finally answers, turning the page.

"Sounds interesting," I comment facetiously, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care enough to respond. "You should read it to me."

"As you wish." Solas begins reading aloud and I let his soothing voice wash over me as I continue kissing on his neck.

Typically, Solas only wears leggings to bed. Tonight is no different. As I feather my lips along his jawline, my fingers swirl intricate patterns across his chest. His voice falters, then halts altogether.

"Rhynn, what are you – ah!"

I release the skin of his neck from between my teeth to whisper in his ear, "Keep reading."

After a momentary pause and the rustling of pages, Solas begins again.

Satisfied, I continue my ministrations. Moving lower, I taste the skin over one collarbone, then the other for comparison's sake. I pop back up to give that adorable chin dimple a kiss before skimming my lips down the center of his chest. I straddle his legs so my back isn't twisted awkwardly and take my time exploring.

There's a light dusting of freckles across his shoulders that I hadn't noticed before. I already knew about the ones on his face, of course, and find them ridiculously cute. I run my fingers over this new discovery, curious. _The freckles, the eyebrows…_

"You're a red-head, aren't you?" I interrupt.

Solas pauses, glancing down at me with an amused expression. "Yes. Reddish-brown."

"Did you have dreads, Dread Wolf?" I ask with an impish grin.

"Did I have what?"

"Dreads," I sit up slightly. "You know, hair that's twisted and matted and kind of rope-like?" I make weird hand gestures that probably do nothing to aid my explanation.

Solas' face registers mild surprise. "Ah, yes… at one point. How did you – "

"Keep reading," I interrupt again, pushing the hand holding his book closer to his face. Solas rolls his eyes good-naturedly and continues.

Meanwhile, I decide it's time to kick things into gear, moving even lower and tugging the top of his leggings down slightly to expose his hip bones. I scrape my teeth over one of them and Solas' voice wavers. _Exsssthelent._

_Wow, so glad he can't hear my thoughts…_

"Rhynn," he sighs, stroking a thumb across the apple of my cheek. I raise a challenging eyebrow and he sighs again, returning to the book. Solas doesn't notice when he accidentally reads the same sentence twice and I give myself a mental pat on the back.

Solas' voice starts and stops in random fits for the next few minutes.

"A spirit sees everything as defined by will and… Ah... a-and memory, and this is why they are so very lost when they cross the Veil. In our world, imagination has no substance. Objects – "

I try something new. _For science._

" _Fenehdis!_ Rhynn!" _Interesting choice of curse word, Fen._ A gentle hand cups the back of my head and tries to pull me up. I grab it and pin it to the bed, grinning up at its owner.

"Ah, ah, ah," I scold. "No touching." I release his hand and he retracts it, watching me with hooded eyes. "Continue reading, please. I find I'm rather _enthralled_ with the subject."

After a bit of a staring contest, Solas groans quietly and brings the book in front of his face once more.

"Objects…" his voice is slightly husky and he pauses to clear his throat. "Objects e-exist – mmm – exist independently… of how we remember them or…"

His voice halts and I stop what I'm doing and his eyes snap open and down to me. I wait patiently until he mutters something I assume is not very nice and keeps reading. I reward him by resuming my activities.

"… or what emotions we – oh! – we associate with them. Mages alone… possess the power to, uh, to change…" His free hand flutters over my shoulder like he doesn't know what to do with it, so I pick it up and place it deliberately on my head. After a slight hesitation, his fingers sink into my short hair. "… the world with their minds, and perhaps… this forms the nature of a demon's attraction… attraction to them – who can sa-ah! I can't – Rhynn…" the book slips from his fingers and hits the floor with a thud. His now empty hand reaches down and gently brushes my hair back. I glance up to find him watching me with dark eyes, pupils blown wide. Solas' thumb grazes one of the deeper furrows on my left cheek and I spend a half-second wondering if my scars at all detract from what he's seeing before the look in his eyes quells that fear.

I grin. _Finally!_

Some time later, as the fog of post-coital bliss recedes from my mind, doubt begins creeping back in. Just as I predicted, the feelings lurking on the fringes are not really of the Friends-With-Benefits variety. And that is… really not good.

"Solas?"

"Hm?"

"I…" I falter, unsure of how I want to phrase my thoughts.

"What is it, _lethal'lan_?" Solas asks, sounding concerned.

I sit up and fix him with a serious look. "This can't be more than it is now."

His brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

I wring the sheets between my hands in agitation. "I mean there can't be any deeper feelings than affection involved in this," I insist.

Solas sits up then, too, and just stares at me for a long moment. Then he sighs wearily, eyes cast downward. "Agreed."

Despite my adamancy, I don't feel happy at his agreement.

* * *

The sun feels pleasantly warm on the crown of my head, but the slight chill in the air makes me glad for the cape I now wear. _Okay, it's a cloak, but 'cape' sounds cooler._ I'm nearly full-medieval, what with the leather armor and the cape. I look rather regal, if I do say so myself. The image is completed by the mighty steed beneath me. I glance down and have to stifle a giggle.

_Mighty steed, indeed!_

The animal that currently carries me is certainly no horse. It is, in fact, a giant nug. The moment I laid eyes on it back at Skyhold, I knew we were destined for one another.

As we ride, silence reigns over our small group and, without fail, my usual habits kick in.

" _Mamaaaaa, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun. Now I've gone and thrown it all awaaaay_."

"Is the singing really necessary?" Cassandra grumbles.

"Sorry, habit," I apologize insincerely, then mumble quietly, "Who pissed in her cornflakes this morning?"

Varric, who is the closest, lets out a chuckle. "The Seeker's just in a bad mood 'cause I know her dirty little secret."

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise and glares over her shoulder.

"Aw, man!" I whine. "I missed that? Damn it!"

"You _know_?!" Cassandra asks, horrified.

I shrug, "Well, yeah…?"

She whips back around in her saddle, the back of her neck turning bright red. "Does that mean _everyone_ in your world knows the type of literature I like to read?"

"Don't worry, Cass," I console while trying to hide my amusement. "Most of the people that know also read smut."

"Truly?" she asks, sounding surprised. "Even you?"

"Ohhh yeah!" _You have no idea._ "I read more smut than you could shake a stick at." Cassandra looks slightly less embarrassed, but Solas is now giving me a judge-y, raised eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that, Solas. Most of it was about you."

Solas' eyebrows shoot upwards and he just blinks at me in shock. " _What?_ "

Varric breaks into loud guffaws. "Wait, are you telling me people in your world write smut about _Chuckles_? Oh, that is too good!"

Up ahead, Aila hops off of her horse and disappears behind a rock.

"Anything interesting?" I call.

"Ugh! It's locked," Aila's voice drifts over the boulder. "Varric, I require your expertise!"

"On my way, Your Holiness!" Varric climbs down from his pony and disappears after the Inquisitor.

The rest of us decide this is a good chance to stretch our legs, dismounting as well.

Solas comes to stand beside me. "Please tell me you were merely joking about the… explicit literature," he pleads quietly. When I make a slightly uncomfortable face, he starts looking horrified. Possibly a bit embarrassed. "That – what… _why?_ "

"Well… uh," my eyes shift to his face and away, "you're really quite good-looking, as well as smart… and then there's the whole, well, you know…" I wiggle my fingers vaguely at him.

It takes him a second. " _That?_ Really?"

I shrug and whisper, "People like a good god of rebellion."

"Even you?" There's something strange in his voice and he eyes me curiously. I make a noncommittal sound in response.

Varric and Aila return before we can say anything else, each holding a few trinkets.

"Nothing worthy of a lock," Varric informs us, tucking a few things away. He goes to toss away one of the items but I stop him.

"Ooh! Can I have that?"

Varric raises an eyebrow but tosses it at me. "Knock yourself out, Princess."

I examine the item in my hands. It's a white hat with a jumble of garishly-colored flowers on the front. It is, without a doubt, the ugliest, most ridiculous thing I've ever laid eyes on.

_It's perfect._

With a grin, I plop it onto my head and climb back on my Nuggalope. _Now_ the vision is complete.

"I must admit, you make quite the sight," Varric comments, tone indicating his obvious amusement.

"Why thank you, Master Tethras," I flash him a grin and nudge my mount's side to get her moving.

* * *

I stare into the crackling flames, letting my mind fall quiet as I lean into Solas' side.

"So, any idea what we're going to find in this temple?" Aila's voice cuts through. It takes me a second to realize she's talking to me.

"I'm afraid not. It wasn't something that stuck in my mind."

Aila just nods and goes back to sharpening her sword.

"Hey, Princess," Varric pipes up. "What's the music like in your world?"

I figure he's just trying to make conversation, but my eyes cut to where my violin rests, propped up against the side of a tent. "I, uh… I could show you."

I feel eyes shift to me at that and hear rustling as they lean forward in interest. My palms sweat a little as I begin to regret those words.

"Would you?" Aila asks, sounding excited.

"Do not feel like you have to," Solas whispers quietly in my ear and it helps settle the butterflies in my stomach.

"Nah," I shake my head. "I think I want to," I whisper back and he retracts the arm around my waist when I push to my feet.

I make short work of preparing my violin and sit down next to Solas again, placing it in my lap. The others, who haven't had the chance to see it yet, examine the instrument curiously.

As I go about tuning, I try to think of a good song to sing, one that I still remember all the lyrics to. It comes to me just as I finish with the E string. I set my bow aside. I won't be needing it for this.

"So, uh, this song is usually accompanied by a guitar. It sounds better that way, but I'll do my best," I tell them nervously before clearing my throat.

Then I begin, plucking out the first notes. They repeat a few times, with a little variation, before I start singing.

" _Well, I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?"_ My voice comes out soft and raspy, wavering a bit with my nervousness. " _Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, halleluuuujaah."_ My voice cracks on the last bit and I have to clear my throat subtly.

 _"Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof. Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya."_ I focus on my fingers, unable to look at my audience. My heart beats quickly in my chest. This is different than singing a lullaby to a little boy. " _She tied you to her kitchen chair. She broke your throne and she cut your hair. And from your lips she drew the hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, halleluuuujaaah."_

I close my eyes and lift my head, starting to lose myself in the music. " _But baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor. You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya."_ My voice gets a little stronger, but still with that raspy quality. _"Well I've seen your flag on the marble arch. And love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, halleluuujaaahh…"_

There's a short instrumental interlude here, if I remember correctly. I pluck it out on my violin to the best of my ability. I finally open my eyes to find the others staring at me raptly. It makes my fingers fumble, but I quickly recover, flushing slightly. Solas gives me a small smile and I return it. I let my voice get a bit softer again for the next bit, a little longing. _"Well, there was a time when you let me know what's really going on below. But now you never show that to me, do ya?_ " And then gradually stronger again. " _But remember when I moved in you and the holy dove was moving too. And every breath we drew was hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, halleluuujah."_

 _"Maybe there is a God above, but all I've ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya. And it's not a cry that you hear at night. It's not somebody who's seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, halleluuuujaaah._ " I repeat 'hallelujah' a few more times before striking the last chord and letting it fade.

Sudden applause surrounds me and I jerk out of my reverie, glancing around with wide eyes. Varric whistles loudly, Cassandra is looking a bit teary-eyed, Aila is clapping vigorously, and Solas is smiling tenderly at me. The Inquisition scouts at this campsite have also gathered round without me noticing.

 _Holy shit, I just did that._ I give them all a self-conscious smile, my hands starting to tremble as the adrenaline fades. I turn my back on them to put my violin away, and to give myself a bit of a buffer from all the attention.

As I'm snapping the last buckle into place, a warm hand comes to rest between my shoulder blades.

"That was beautiful, _lethal'lan_ ," Solas says quietly, kneeling beside me.

"Thanks," I sigh. "I can't believe I just did that, though. I never thought I'd do something like that again."

"Performing is something you used to do?" he asks curiously.

I shrug, running a hand through my hair. "Kind of, I guess. Music was pretty important in my family. Every summer, we'd have this big get-together with friends and family where we'd just eat and play music for days." I smile fondly at the memory.

"You miss them," Solas observes, tucking a stray lock behind my ear.

My shoulders sag a bit, "Yeah… a lot."

" _Ir abelas_. I did not intend to bring up unpleasant memories."

I reach over and lay my hand over his. "You didn't. They're good memories. I just wish I could go home again."

Solas presses his lips to my forehead in comfort and murmurs, "I know."

* * *

What we find at the temple are zombies. _Motherfucking zombies!_

I sink my knife into the throat of the putrid creature and kick it away. It falls to the floor with a wet plop.

"What the _actual_ fuck?!" I shriek and Cassandra shushes me.

"Never seen an undead before, huh?" Varric asks with a grin.

I curl my lip and prod one of the bodies with the toe of my boot. "Um, no. Of course not! In all of the worlds I've been to, the dead stay dead." I glance around, trying to see through the cloying darkness. "This place is creepy as fuck."

"Eloquent," Solas sasses and I elbow him in the ribs. "Oof!"

"I'd really appreciate it if zombies could stick to horror films that I don't watch, thank you," I continue.

"Zombies?" Varric asks, confused. "Horror films?"

"Not now," Aila hisses at us. "Let's move."

We follow her further in. "Whose temple is this, anyway?" I ask curiously.

"Dirthamen," Solas replies.

"Are you sure it's not Falon'Din's?" I joke and he rolls his eyes, turning his attention to lighting a Veilfire brazier.

"Who?" Varric asks me quietly.

"Elven god of death," I whisper back.

"Ah," he chuckles a little. _At least someone appreciates my humor._

"All right," Aila grabs our attention. "Everyone light your torch and fan out, but don't go far. We'll reconvene here in five minutes."

We do as she says. Straight ahead, the light from my torch illuminates a large statue of a wolf. _Hmm…_ I move closer and notice a plaque at the base. I crouch and wipe away as much grime as I can. The words are in ancient elvish, but I am able to make out the name Fen'Harel. _Interesting. What's this doing in Dirthamen's temple?_ I glance around, looking for Solas. _Damn it, where'd he go?_

I creep silently down a dark corridor. The greenish fire of my torch casts eerie shadows on the wall that make me jump. _Why are we even here?_

When I finally find Solas, I almost scream at the dark silhouette he makes. After composing myself, I move closer. He's staring at a weird little statue holding a bowl.

"Hey, why's there a Fen'Harel statue here?" Solas turns at the sound of my voice and then I really do scream.

I hear the others come running. At least, I hope it's the others and not a horde of hungry undead.

After a second of just staring at me in shock, Solas finally speaks. "Why did you scream?"

"Why the fuck are your eyes glowing?!"

"Glowing?" Solas eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, then smooth out. "Rhynn, it is an elven trait."

When I finally understand what he's saying, I feel like the biggest dumbass in the world. "Your eyes reflect light. Sorry…" I press a hand over my face in embarrassment.

"What is it? What has happened?" Cassandra sweeps into the room, sword aloft. Aila and Varric enter behind, weapons also drawn.

"A false alarm," Solas informs them calmly and then smirks at me. "It seems Rhynn is somewhat afraid of the dark."

I glare at him, wrapping an arm around my waist. "It's just creepy in here, okay?"

"Right…" Aila gives me a strange look, then turns her attention to Solas. "Any clue what we're supposed to do here?"

"It seems we must light the statues," he gestures to the bowl-holder against the wall.

"Something's going to try to kill us when we do, isn't it?" Aila asks sardonically.

"Well, of course," Varric scoffs. "Dark, creepy ruins… mysterious statues… it wouldn't be right if something didn't pop out at us as soon as you light that thing."

"Greeaaat…" I mutter tremulously.

When something _does_ pop out and try to kill us, it's not a surprise, but it's still terrifying. A swarm of zombies descends on us, led by some sort of floating Boss Zombie. Despite being prepared, none of us come out of that fight unscathed.

Aila curses. "What _was_ that thing?"

"A Revenant," Cassandra responds grimly.

_Ohhh. Those things._

"This one seemed stronger than the ones I've fought before," Varric comments, then downs a potion.

"A product of the lingering magic in this place," Solas explains, healing a particularly nasty burn on my arm.

And that's about how the next few hours go. Revenant after fucking revenant… and _so_ many undead. By the time we finish placing the body parts on their pedestals, I'm more than ready to get out of this hell hole. Being knee-deep in cold water certainly isn't helping my mood any, either.

"This is so many kinds of wrong," I groan, dumping a pair of thousand-year-old eyeballs into a bowl. They land with a _squish_ that has my stomach rolling. I may deal with blood and guts on a regular basis, but this… _ew._

"Agreed," Varric grumbles, depositing the heart in another dish and making a face.

"Let's get this over with," Aila sighs, descending the steps and activating the device in the center of the room.

A strange light surrounds the body parts behind us and, as we watch, they begin knitting themselves back together. The commotion draws more undead to us, so Solas and Varric lay a few traps and we ready our weapons.

With a loud explosion of magic, the reformed priest – or whatever he is – drops to the floor and immediately begins throwing malicious spells in our direction.

"Bianca, baby," Varric lifts his crossbow with a grin, "let's have a little fun." And then we're off.

Solas and I focus on keeping the encroaching zombies at bay while the other three work on taking down the big guy. I use my throwing knives, picking off the creatures before they can even descend the stairs. Solas casts glyphs, throws wicked sharp shards of ice, and opens small rifts over the larger groups. I wonder briefly why nobody questions him on that last trick before getting distracted by an arrow grazing my leg.

When it seems apparent that we've picked off the last of the stragglers, Solas and I turn to help the others. But it seems we aren't needed when one last arrow from Bianca sends the priest-demon-thing sprawling. It doesn't get back up.

"Is anybody severely wounded?" Aila asks tiredly. When we all answer in the negative, she starts walking. "Then let's get whatever's behind that door and get out of here."

* * *

Two days later, as we ride back into Skyhold, weary from travel, a young man comes running up to Aila's horse.

"Inquisitor!"

Aila's brow furrows and she slides down. "What is it?"

"Warden Blackwall's gone missing."


	35. Hope is a luxury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for all of the wonderful reviews on the last chapter and sorry in advance for the long author’s note.
> 
> I have some links that I keep forgetting to include. I’ve tried to upgrade the tumblr page for this story. I have chapter links up for both AO3 and ff.net and I finally turned on asks and whatnot. So feel free to follow, like, send me an ask, or whatever if you want. Here’s the link: http://sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com/. Not everything on there pertains to Traveler because sometimes I can’t resist reblogging pretty Solas art.
> 
> Here are two more sketches I did of Rhynn (because I’m a nerd that loves her OC), in case you want to see them but don’t want to hunt through the tumblr page:
> 
> Little Rhynn: http://sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com/image/128872509184  
> A sneak peek? http://sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com/image/130222751549
> 
> One of my readers also made this amazing dreamcast, which I’m still super excited about: http://reineserpent.tumblr.com/post/131118028989/so-here-i-am-reading-fantastic-dai-ff-traveler
> 
> Thanks again to all of you! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: If wishes were horses…

It's been four days since Aila left for Val Royeaux, Sera, Dorian, and Bull in tow. I tried to invite myself along, but Aila was rather insistent that the four of us get some rest. She did ask for my advice, but seemed rather disappointed when all I could offer was, "Show mercy."

As much as I appreciate Aila's thoughtfulness, I'm worried. I hope that the Inquisitor will pardon Blackwall, but I really don't know her well enough to say for certain. And so, with a slowly widening pit of anxiety in my stomach, I try to occupy myself with clinic duties. I can tell Solas realizes something is up, but he thankfully doesn't pry.

I'm teaching Cole how to wrap a sprained ankle when Aila and company come riding into Skyhold. I stand abruptly, eyes frantically roving over the group. No Blackwall. _Oh no._ I move to approach, to question, but the frigid look Aila throws in my direction has me halting in my tracks. _Shit._

"Bitter pain. Ice cold shards against my heart. They all say one thing but mean another. Everyone lies. What else does she know?" Cole's words cause my insides to twist. _I'm going to have to leave. They'll make me leave._

**_It was only a matter of time._ **

"No," the edges of Cole's hat flap as he shakes his head. "They like you. She's just hurting." He pauses and I catch the edge of a frown in my peripheral vision. "I'm… not sure how to help. Maybe…" he drifts off into speculative muttering.

Cole's reassurance helps calm me some, but I'm still not entirely convinced that I won't be booted from Skyhold within the hour. When a messenger comes to retrieve me not even thirty minutes later, I'm certain of it.

As much as I want to scamper off without a word, I force myself to roll my shoulders back and march into the war room. Four sets of eyes lock onto me the moment I enter, some of them narrowing with displeasure.

"So we're back to hostility and suspicion?" I ask facetiously, arms crossed defensively. "Good to know."

"I can't believe you!" Aila fumes, taking an intimidating step towards me. "You knew, and you never said a word!"

Feeling slightly indignant now, I throw my arms out to the sides, "It wasn't my secret to tell!"

"A wanted man, a _murderer_ , has been privy to sensitive Inquisition information for a year now," Aila moves closer, face red. "You didn't think that was something that should be shared with the rest of us?!"

I huff exasperatedly, "I knew you'd eventually find out! If I thought anyone was in danger, I would have said something!"

"Would you?" Leliana interjects. "What else are you keeping from us?"

_Well, you've got an ancient elvhen deity chilling in the rotunda, but you know… nothing important, really. Shit. Okay. Poker face._

Except now I've got some earth song running through my head and it's really distracting. "Nothing of this magnitude," I reply as calmly as possible.

"So there _are_ things you're not telling us?" Cullen asks angrily.

"Of course there are!" I throw my hands up. "Everybody has secrets and like I've said a million times before, _they're not mine to tell_!"

"But if they threaten the integrity of this organization – "

"Please, everyone, let us discuss this calmly and in a civilized manner," Josephine's soft voice cuts through the bickering and we fall quiet. "Perhaps we are being too harsh with Rhynn. No harm was done and she has not lead us astray thus far."

I blink a few times in surprise and glance surreptitiously at the others. They still look pretty angry but I can feel the fight draining out of me.

Aila pinches the bridge of her nose. "I just… I don't know if I can trust you if these are the kinds of secrets you're keeping."

I stare down at my feet, feeling really awkward. I feel bad for keeping the whole Dread Wolf thing to myself… but at least I'll be long gone by the time they figure that out.

"Can you still trust me to do my job?" I ask quietly, glancing up at her. After a minute of deliberation, Aila nods. "Good. Then I'll at least be of some use to you." I start to leave but pause, turning back. "What… what did you do about Blackwall?"

Aila makes eye contact for a few moments before speaking. "I arranged to have him transferred into Inquisition custody."

I can't hide the surprise that flashes through me. With everything… I didn't think… there's still hope, then. "And what do you plan to do once he's here?"

"I'm not sure yet," she answers honestly, looking tired.

_Still, better prospects than I thought._ I incline my head and take my leave.

* * *

I sidle up to Solas' chair and run my fingers along the back of his neck, "What'cha reading?"

Solas wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me down into his lap. "Are you truly interested, or is this another ploy to distract me?" he asks with a small smirk.

"Why can't it be both?" I wiggle my eyebrows and pull him in for a kiss. I hear a loud, disgusted groan from upstairs and, without opening my eyes, give the person a nice one-fingered salute. I really hope it's Dorian and not some random citizen. I pull back and stand up. "I've got a bit of a break, so I'm going to steal one of your books," I declare, rifling through the stack.

Solas makes a disgruntled noise and half stands, "Wait, Rhynn, I had… nevermind." He sits back down with a huff.

"What?" I ask, paused in the act of pulling a book from one of the stacks.

"I had them in a certain order," Solas sighs, sounding very put-upon.

I give him an amused and slightly incredulous look as I finish removing the object. "I'll put it back where I found it, you dork."

I flop myself onto the couch, kick one leg up onto the arm, and attempt to lose myself in reading for the next hour. It works, for the first twenty minutes or so, but then something Aila said creeps into my thoughts.

_A year… Has it really been that long already? Why am I still here?_ The only other place I've stayed for this long was my first planet.

"I've been here for a year," I find myself saying out loud.

Solas glances up from his book. "I take it that is an unusual amount of time for you to stay in one place?"

"Yeah…" I sit up, only to stare down at my hands. "I'll… I'll probably be leaving soon…"

Something like sadness flashes across Solas' face before it goes expressionless once more. "Most likely."

My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. "I don't want to go," I confess quietly, voice wavering.

Solas' eyes snap up from where they had drifted down to his desk. His gaze is intense and I can't get a fix on the many emotions roiling beneath the surface. "I… do not want that either."

"If wishes were horses, though, right?" I give a weak chuckle and go back to reading, but I can feel Solas' eyes on me for a good while longer.

* * *

A few days later, Blackwall is escorted into Skyhold, shackled and surrounded by guards. They take him into the dungeon and I don't see him again for quite a while.

The next time I see him is when I attend his judgement, stomach doing nervous flips. I'm prepared to step in should Aila make a less-than-desirable decision, but it proves unnecessary when she declares him free. I'm not sure who's more surprised, me or Blackwall.

After stating her stipulations, Aila casts one unreadable glance in my direction and leaves for her quarters. I give Blackwall a smile, but he seems lost in thought, so I leave him be.

As I cross the courtyard to my clinic, which was recently moved inside one of the buildings, I notice that people appear more jovial than normal. Typically, there's always a heavy blanket of anxiety and fear that cloaks the fortress, and while it's not entirely gone, the atmosphere feels lighter somehow.

Hands come down over my eyes and I act without thinking, grabbing the arms and twisting as I spin to face my attacker.

"Ow, damn it! Rhynn, it's me!"

The second I realize who it is, I release him. "Rorin, don't ever do that again."

Rorin cradles his arms to his chest, hissing. "Yes, in hindsight, I realize that was probably a very bad idea."

The corner of my mouth twitches. "Sorry about your arms. Are they okay?"

He gently shakes them out and flexes his hands, wincing. "I may not be able to wield a bow for about a week, but I'm sure I'll be fine in time," he replies melodramatically.

"Don't be such a baby," I chide, unable to hide my amusement. I grab one of his arms, less forcefully this time, and examine it. "You're fine. Just a bit of bruising to remind you not to cross me again."

Rorin laughs. "Anyway, before you so rudely assaulted my person, I was going to invite you to the tavern tonight. I'm not sure I want to now."

"Why…?" I ask, skeptical and confused.

"Because you hurt me."

I groan and roll my eyes, "You know what I meant."

"You don't really need an invite to celebrate, but I figured you probably didn't know that it's First Day, so I thought I'd let you know," Rorin explains with a grin.

"First Day?"

"Yeah, it's the first day of the new year. We Thedosians tend to celebrate the occasion with drinking and merriment," he states, sounding like a pompous history professor.

"I'm more of a fornication and revelry type of person," I smirk, "but I'll give it a shot."

Rorin barks out a laugh and pats me on the shoulder, "I'll see you tonight, then."

* * *

"I would really rather not, _lethal'lan_."

"Come on, Solas, it'll be fun!" I implore, leaning over his desk while he tries to hide behind a book. "Everybody loves merriment."

"I have more important things to do than socializing with inebriated people," he replies flatly and turns the page.

I sigh loudly, "Like what? What are all these books? They're different from the last bunch." I pick up one from the top of a stack and open the cover to read the title. _Visitors From Beyond Our World: A compendium of stories from across Thedas._

"What." My voice comes out strained, and Solas' eyes are already on me when I glance up. "What is _this_?" I shake the book at Solas.

"I am attempting to find accounts of others such as yourself," he replies calmly.

"Have you?" I drop the book back onto the pile and cross my arms.

"Not yet."

"And you never will. There's no greater purpose behind my life, no meaning to what I've been through and what I'll continue to endure," I rant, throat tight. "I suggest you give up now and return these books to where you found them."

"There is no harm in trying, Rhynn," Solas soothes, standing and placing a hand on my cheek.

I bat it away. "Yes there is!"

" _How_?"

"Because I can't allow myself that kind of hope!" I shout before my shoulders slump and I cast my eyes downwards. "And you shouldn't either." Then I leave without waiting for an answer.

I retreat to the garden, hoping for some peace and quiet. Lady Luck is with me for once and the area is empty but for a few people. I find a secluded bench and sit, taking a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. A leaf flutters into my lap and I pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light.

_How can he stand it? Doing all that and knowing it won't help… But what if he does find something?_

**_He won't. You never found anything when you tried before._ **

I sigh wearily and let the leaf drift to the ground.

"Something troubles you."

My head snaps to the left to find Morrigan studying me like a particularly fascinating insect.

"Yes," I answer simply. I doubt she's truly interested. She must have some other reason for being here. "What brings you to this part of the garden, Lady Morrigan?"

"I was simply passing through when I saw a rather pitiful creature stewing in her self-imposed woes and found myself curious," Morrigan replies with an arched brow.

I snort, scooting over and patting the space beside me. "Astute, but you're here for a different reason, I'm sure. Otherwise I doubt you'd waste your time."

Morrigan perches beside me like a bird, self-assured in her right to be here but ready to fly should the need arise. "You knew about Rainier."

"I did."

"And yet you refused to tell a soul. How… interesting," Morrigan draws out her words, eyeing me curiously.

"Like I keep telling everyone, it wasn't my secret to tell," I reply, a bit of annoyance seeping into my tone.

"Indeed." Morrigan falls silent for a long moment. "Tell me what you know of me."

It doesn't take me overly long to fill the request. With as secretive as Morrigan is, there wasn't much to know in the first place. I've also forgotten many of the finer details over the years, but the things I do relay leave Morrigan reeling. Or as much as someone like her can be thrown off.

" _Mythal?_ " she breathes, eyes wide. "You are quite sure?"

"Yes."

"This… certainly changes things," Morrigan actually starts fidgeting with a strip of leather on her pants. "So many questions answered… and yet so many more to fill their place. Are there other surviving members of the pantheon?"

I hesitate for a heartbeat. "Yes…" Morrigan's eyes flit across my face and I turn away before I accidentally give anything away. "There are some major changes coming, I think. And it seems your mother wanted you to be a part of them."

"It would seem so, yes."

"I'm sorry I don't know anything more," I say sincerely. If I knew what Flemeth's plan was, I certainly wouldn't withhold that information from Morrigan.

"'Tis not your fault," she assures as she stands, smoothing out her top. "Even in a book from another world, my mother would have kept her secrets well."

* * *

The tavern is crowded and warm when I arrive, many of its patrons already well into their cups. True to Rorin's words, there is also plenty of merriment happening. Dancing, singing, laughing… I can't help but smile at the liveliness as I make my way to the bar and order a glass of wine.

_It's a holiday. I can splurge._

I carry it to the nearest empty chair, which happens to be at an already-claimed table. I realize the man at the table is Blackwall and smile. "Excuse me, good ser. Is this spot taken?"

Blackwall glances up and stares at me in surprise. He clears his throat and waves a hand at the chair. "No. The spot is yours if you'd like it, my lady."

"I think I would," I smile wider and sit. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Bit bold of me, isn't it?" he asks with a wry twist of the lips. "I'm certain many of these people wish I had stayed in the barn tonight."

"Give them time," I take a sip of my wine. "They'll get over it. It's the start of a new year, after all," I grin at him but he continues to look glum.

"Perhaps, though I can't say I blame them if they don't," Blackwall grumbles and takes a swig of his own drink. Some stays behind in his mustache and glimmers in the firelight.

I lean across the table and lay my hand on his forearm. "The ones that matter will forgive you. You should try forgiving yourself."

Blackwall gives me a haunted look from beneath heavy brows. "How can I? Maker, Rhynn, what I did…" he chokes off and I give his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I know. We've all done things we're not proud of. I'm not saying it's excusable, but maybe it's time to let it go. Maybe we're not doing them any favors by clinging to their ghosts." _Maybe this isn't just about Blackwall…_

Blackwall sighs, "Perhaps you're right. I'll… think on what you said." He glances to the side and starts, sitting up straight. "Oh, Solas! Didn't see you there."

I turn to look and, sure enough, Solas is standing by our table, looking very out of place in this crowded bar. There's a strange look on his face and I wonder how long he's been standing there. "Hey! You came!"

Solas shakes his head slightly, as if pulling himself out of his thoughts. "Yes. I apologize, I should have announced my presence." Brushing off the remainder of his awkwardness, he smiles at me and extends a hand, palm up. "Dance with me, _lethal'lan_?"

"Hmm," I pretend to deliberate, giving him a coy smirk. "I'll have you know, monsieur, I will not dance with just anyone."

Solas purses his lips slightly to keep a smile at bay and says in an overly serious manner, "I assure you, my lady, I am a _very_ skilled dance partner." His eyes and tone hold promise in them and I blush at the knowledge that Blackwall is watching this.

I set my drink aside and take Solas' hand, rising from my seat. "I suppose it wouldn't kill me to give you a try," I tease. I give Blackwall a wave as Solas leads me to the dance floor.

He twirls me around until both of us are left panting and laughing. I'm still not that good at dancing, but he makes it fun. Afterwards, I collect my drink from the table Blackwall is still sitting at. _I should ask him to dance later. Hopefully he doesn't mind a few smooshed toes._

Solas and I find a different table and flop into the chairs. Well, _I_ flop. Solas is more graceful than that.

"You showed some improvement from the last time," Solas smirks at me.

"Excuse you," I all but stick my tongue out at him. "I only stepped on your foot _twice_ this time. That's a huge improvement." We start laughing again at that.

We sit in peaceful silence for a while, sipping our drinks and people-watching. Solas got wine, too. We're classy fucks tonight.

"They all look so happy and carefree," I remark, smiling slightly at the assortment of friends, family, and lovers before us. "It'll be good once all of this is over. The people here seem to put up with more shit than your average world. They deserve a break."

"I must admit, the idea of this holiday is somewhat foreign to me," Solas says in lieu of a reply.

I hum thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. What's the point of celebrating each year when you've got an eternity of them before you?" Solas inclines his head. "But for us mortals, sometimes it's nice to remind ourselves that we're still alive and kicking."

"I suppose can see the appeal," he concedes quietly. "Do you have a similar holiday on earth?"

"Yeah," I smile at the memories. "New Year's."

"Well then, Happy New Year's, Rhynn." He's watching me with a tender smile, which I return.

"Happy New Year, Solas."

* * *

That night in the Fade, Solas shows me his favorite ancient elvhen holidays and I show him my earth favorites. Mine appear rather quaint compared to his, but he seems interested nonetheless.

I'm woken early the next morning by a pounding at the door. Still groggy from sleep, I throw on the first piece of clothing I find and open the door to Josephine. She looks much less put together than I'm used to, tears welling in her eyes.

"What is it, Josephine?" I ask, concerned.

"It… it's Ghilani." My stomach plummets through the floor. "They found his body in the Emerald Graves."


	36. Burn Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. For better or worse…  
> Also, Rhynn and Solas: http://sarcasm-and-cynicism.tumblr.com/post/131789060679
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own like three characters in this whole thing. Now two… *cringe*

And all the kids cried out,  
"Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
Goddamn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

-Control by Halsey

* * *

_"So," I begin as I go about organizing the clinic's potion stores. "Tell me, small child. What do you like to do for fun?"_

_The boy finishes folding another rag and places it on top of a growing pile before frowning at me. "My name is Ghilani. You know that."_

_He says it so maturely and with such world-weariness, I have to practically bury my head in the box in front of me to hide my smile. "I'm sorry, sonny," I make my voice sound frail. "I'm afraid my hearing's not what it used to be. Gillard, you said?"_

_He huffs. "No. Ghilani."_

_"Griffon?"_

_"No!"_

_"Gabby?"_

_"Ghilani!"_

_"Gwenifred?"_

_At that, he giggles._ Mission accomplished.

_"No, Ghillie," he emphasizes each syllable._

_"Ah!" I exclaim, spinning on my hind end to face him, arms splayed wide. "Ghillie! Why didn't you say so?"_

_He rolls his eyes so hard, I hear the voice of my father in my head saying 'They'll get stuck that way.' "You're weird,_ hahren _."_

_I grin and lean back on my hands. "This I know. So, are you going to answer my question?"_

_"Well…" Ghillie looks thoughtful. "I like playing pretend with my friend, Naril."_

It's good to know some nice things stay constant. _"I used to love doing that. What kind of stuff did you pretend?"_

 _"Sometimes we pretended to be hunters and tried to track animals, but we weren't allowed to use a bow so we never caught anything." Ghillie's eyes light up suddenly. "Oh! Except, one time, we caught a frog and took turns hiding it._ Mamae _found out and made me let it go. She said wild things weren't meant to be kept as pets." He seems to realize he'd started talking about his mom and that light begins to dim._

_"My brother and I liked to make mud pies!" I blurt, not wanting the first bit of excitement I've seen in weeks to disappear just yet. "We used to pretend we were cooks at our own little outdoor bistro. We'd make the fanciest mud pies you've ever seen, topped with seeds and greens from the garden. Sometimes we'd make our dad come eat at our restaurant."_

_Ghillie's eyes widen and he leans forward. "You made him eat mud?!"_

_I laugh loudly at that. "No, no. He'd pretend to eat, just like we pretended to cook."_

_"Your family sounds fun."_

_"Yeah…" I sigh and look away. "They were."_

I feel a hand on my arm. _When I look up, L'rij is sitting across from me, little hand patting my arm soothingly._

_"Don't cry, Ree. They probably miss you a lot, too, and they will be really happy to see you when you go home."_

_I sniffle and rub my eyes. "Thanks, little one. Sorry about that," I stand and walk over to the counter. "Let's finish making this cake for your mom, hm? I bet she's going to love it."_

_L'rij bounces on her toes. "I hope so! I want her to have the best Life Day ever!"_

_"And she will," I give her a smile and go over to the pantry to fish out some ingredients. Just around the corner, Ameant stops me. She takes my hands and looks straight into my eyes with her own alien ones._

_"Have faith that you will see your family again, sweet girl. We are nothing without hope."_

_Small hands pull at my own, dragging me into another adventure._

_"Come on, Rhynn!" My name comes out strange on their tongues. "Come pick flowers with us for the festival!"_

_I glance back at Til, silently asking if that's okay. Til nods and the corners of her lips quirk. Coming from her, it's the equivalent of a laugh._

_I let the children lead me to a small meadow where we begin picking an assortment of colorful wildflowers. I'm not really sure what this festival is about, but it sounds fun, so I'm looking forward to it. I sing a little as I gather. Some of the kids join in, humming in harmony. I close my eyes and turn my face to the red sun. This is the most at peace I've felt since my life went to hell._

_I open my eyes and look around. The meadow is gone. In its place is a burnt out building. Only two walls remain standing, but the fire has long since gone out._

_I hesitantly move closer, picking my way through the rubble. And then I see it. Four little digits poking out from under a large beam, charred to the point of being nearly unrecognizable as fingers. I fall to my knees and clutch my head, unable to tear my eyes away._

_Eventually, my gaze drifts. I almost can't process the next thing I see. It just looks like a mass of melted flesh. It only takes me three more heartbeats to realize it's a larger figure wrapped around a smaller one._

_There are so many of them. Blackened limbs, shriveled up in agony. There's nothing left from the waist down of that one over there; I can see the spine. Skin stretched too tight over that face; empty sockets stare back at me. Bloody scratch marks on one of the standing walls; they tried to claw their way out._

_It's too much._ Please… _I tear at my hair and scream out my misery, my horror. I don't care if there's still anyone around to hear me._ Come get me. Burn me. I should have been among them, anyways.

_Everything is spinning._

_I ladle soup into a bowl for Ameant. She's been sick for a week now. I don't know what to do. I'd call for a doctor, but they only cater to the rich here and Ameant is a poor widow. I can't figure out what's wrong with her, either. Six years of biology training and I'm about as useful as a rock._

_I place the bowl on a tray and head for the bedroom. L'rij is curled up by the fire, busy reading a small book. I smile and push open the door. L'rij coughs, deep and rattling. I freeze._ No.

_More spinning._

_There's nothing around for miles. Just crisp white snow and a few trees. Only one thing breaks the pristine landscape: a small body, face down in a drift, an ever-widening pool of red framing him._

"Rhynn!"

I slowly become aware of hands stroking my back and arms.

"Breathe, _lethallan_. Yes, there you are."

My chest is so tight. I try to suck air in, but my lungs feel too small.

"Look at me, _gaildahlas_."

My eyes lock with calming blue ones. It helps a little.

"Breathe with me now," the voice urges and I try to comply. I can hear the quiet rush of air from between lips and try to match the tempo. _In, out, in, out._

The spinning finally abates and I'm able to comprehend more. I'm kneeling on the floor. _When did I get here?_ Josephine is kneeling with me, my hands clasped tightly in hers.

"I'll fetch you some water," she says, placing my hands on my knees and standing. Her voice sounds unusually shaky.

"Thank you, Ambassador," Solas nods at her and turns back to me. I don't think I like the way he's looking at me.

I clear my throat awkwardly. It does feel a bit dry. I'll be thankful for the water.

"Memories?" Solas asks quietly, gently. I nod once. He says nothing more, just pulls me into an embrace. The warmth is nice. _When did it get so cold in here?_ I don't really have it in me to return the hug, though. My forehead is pressed to his throat and it starts to feel a bit stifling, so I pull back. Solas' face is unreadable.

Josephine returns, holding a cup of water. I take it, mutter a toneless, "Thank you," and gulp it down.

"What about the others?" I finally ask.

Josephine looks hesitant, eyes darting over to Solas. It makes me inexplicably angry.

"Josephine," I grit out.

Her eyes widen momentarily, but then she regains her composure, looking once again like the political woman she is. "They were found dead, as well." She sounds respectfully regretful. It makes me angrier.

"By whom?"

"We do not know yet, unfortunately," Josephine bends over and picks up her clipboard from the ground. It's laying in a puddle of ink.

_A little boy in a puddle of blood._

I flinch and shake my head. "What's going to happen to the bodies?"

"Inquisition agents will return them to Clan Valen," the Ambassador replies, holding the soggy papers away from her body.

"I would like to accompany them," I state and even I can hear how flat my voice sounds.

Josephine's eyes connect with mine. "Yes, Rhynn. Of course," she promises. "In that case, you will need to leave for the Emerald Graves today."

"I'll grab my things."

"I will send word to the agents who found them," she says and then she's gone.

I move through the room robotically, collecting only the essentials and strapping on my armor. It takes me a minute to realize that Solas is also packing his bag.

"What are you doing?" Expressionless.

Solas glances up at me. "I will accompany you."

"No."

Something flickers in his eyes, but he remains unreadable besides. "Rhynn, I do not believe that is the wisest course of action – "

"You're not coming with me," I interrupt, my voice finally taking on a tone. This one leaves no room for argument.

"Very well." Solas finally stops packing, but he doesn't leave. Just stands there and watches me. It's unnerving. My skin itches and I roll my shoulders to relieve the tension. It doesn't work.

I buckle up my pack and sling it over my shoulder before heading out the door. I leave my violin propped up in the corner. I hear footsteps behind me but decide to ignore them.

They follow me all the way to Skyhold's gates. A hand on my shoulder has me whirling around, upper lip curled back.

" _What?_ " I growl.

Solas doesn't so much as flinch. He just gazes back calmly and takes a step closer. For a moment, I'm afraid he'll try to kiss me, but he simply brushes a strand of hair off of my forehead. " _Dareth shiral_ , _lethallan._ " And then he turns and walks away.

I watch him for a few seconds before turning away, too. There is a horse waiting for me on the bridge, a young man holding the reigns and a map. I take them without a word, climb up, and ride off. The man's well wishes are lost to the wind.

I ride hard for days, only stopping for the horse. I don't sleep. Can't. I doze once and decide that won't be happening again. _The dreams…_ I'm fairly certain I caught the attention of every demon in the vicinity.

I arrive at the camp marked on the map just as the sun is rising on the third day. The agents snap to attention, wary until they realize who I am. Josephine must have described me.

I dismount and one of them takes the horse. "Where are they?" I demand and another agent directs me to a row of linen-wrapped bodies laid out in the shade of a large tree. I make a beeline for the smallest one.

The wrapping looks like it was done with care. That's something at least. I put just as much care into peeling it away from the face. The sight that greets me has me reeling back and stumbling away to dry heave a few feet away.

_Oh God! Ghillie!_

Something strikes to life within me. Or maybe it dies and this is what's left. It burns. Rage, pure and unbridled, rises in my throat. It takes all my self-control not to go on a rampage through the camp. I want to tear, rend, scream. Spit this fire on the ones responsible and watch them burn with me.

**_Burn me, burn me, burn me._ **

I crawl back over to Ghilani. Force myself to look at him. One of his cheeks is caved in. It looks like someone tried to clean him up as best they could. A small part of me appreciates that. I reach out a shaking hand to trail my fingers over the ruined, bloated face. There are little bloodless gashes here and there, as well. His eyelids are closed. I'm ashamed of how thankful I feel for that. With how caved in that side of his face is, I doubt there's much left of the eye.

I don't unwrap him any further. I'll spare him his dignity. I lean over and press my lips to his forehead, ignoring the stench of death. I softly sing the lullaby as I wrap him back up.

"Godspeed, sweet dreams…"

I stand and turn towards the group of people who are pretending not to watch me. "Let's take them home."

There are two to a stretcher. I wave away the agent who offers to help me with Ghillie, lifting the little boy myself and cradling him in my arms. I try to ignore the smell and the slightly squishy feel of him, but it makes my stomach churn and my mind burn.

_They will pay._

**_They will pay._ **

It's not even that far to the Dalish camp. _They were so damn close…_

A little girl is the first to spot us. Her already large eyes widen and she calls for someone. One by one, the rest of the elves turn their attention to us. A few ready weapons, but an older man signals for them to wait. I approach him.

" _An'eth'ara_ ," I greet him solemnly.

" _An'daran atish'an_ , _shemlen_ ," he replies, tone belying the words. "What is the meaning of this?" he asks sharply.

"We are agents of the Inquisition," I explain. "A few days ago, we found six of your clan, murdered by an unknown person or group." My voice is restrained, formal.

A murmur goes through the crowd that has now gathered. One voice rises above the rest.

"You mean the ones we sent to _your_ Inquisition to reclaim the child you held there?! How do we know it wasn't you?!"

I lock eyes with the angry woman. She is short and wiry, dark _vallaslin_ snaking across her sharp cheekbones.

"Quiet, Isera," the older man commands, confirming my suspicions that he's the Keeper. He turns back to me and examines my face for a long minute. "You did not do it," he says quietly, but with conviction.

"No, I…" I choke on the words. "I would never harm any innocent, but especially not this little boy."

**_At least not on purpose._ **

"I see," the Keeper replies and steps aside. "Bring them in. Lay them down over there." He points to a clear spot and some of the other elves rush to aid us. I lay Ghillie down gently and remain kneeling there for a moment.

"Lani…?" a young voice, behind and to my right. I glance over my shoulder to see the same girl as before. Her blonde hair is in braided pigtails. She takes a tentative step towards the smallest wrapped body.

"Naril, come back here," a woman calls from across camp and the girl hesitates before scampering away.

_Oh…_

The Keeper walks over and I stand.

"You knew Ghilani." It's not a question.

"Yes," I reply, glancing back down at his body. "I helped take care of him while he was at Skyhold. He spent most of his days at the clinic with…" I trail off and don't finish.

"You may stay for the ceremony." His silver braids catch the sunlight and I stare. "I must ask that the others leave."

I raise my eyes to his and nod minutely. "Thank you."

He inclines his head and walks away. I return to the group of Inquisition agents and convey what the Keeper said. I don't really remember their responses, only that they leave without incident.

I stand on the fringes, watching the proceedings but not seeing. Soon enough, the graves are dug and the bodies laid beside them. I follow the man carrying Ghillie's body.

An older woman goes from one body to the other, anointing them and saying prayers. _Prayers to gods that were nothing more than slave-owning mages._ It feels wrong. I have to stop myself from yelling at the woman for daring to say such things over Ghilani. He deserves better than that.

_The 'gods' may not care about you, Ghillie, but you had many other people who did. Do._

Soon after, each body is lowered carefully into its grave. I stand close to Ghillie's. The smell of freshly broken soil is enticing. Part of me wants to crawl down there with him, lay beside the small body and let the Dalish cover us. Then maybe I would know peace. 

Someone starts singing softly in elvish. In time, others join in. I understand some of the words. I wonder if these people do, or if they're just repeating words passed down through generations. _Does it really matter either way?_ The song brings me back to myself somewhat and I step back from the edge.

Each member of the clan tosses in a handful of dirt. I'm gently urged to do the same. Then the ones who dug the graves fill them in again. I watch until the end.

After the ceremony, a group of elves begin strapping on armor and picking up weapons. I approach them.

"May I come with you?"

"We are going after the ones who did this," a stocky elf states, eyeing me critically.

"I know," I reply tonelessly. "May I come with you?"

"You any good?" another asks.

"Very."

"Then lead us to where they were found."

I take them to the second marker on my map. Josephine is very good at anticipating the needs of others, it seems. The site is a secluded one, tucked away in a clearing. There's blood everywhere, soaked into the ground and splattered on the rocks.

"Mythal, guide our hands that we may bring swift justice to those responsible for this," someone behind me whispers. _At least that's a prayer I can get behind. I wouldn't mind Flemeth swooping down to burn the bastards._

I step carefully into the clearing, eyes scanning the forest floor for signs. It doesn't take long to spot the bloody boot prints. One of the Dalish is already moving into the trees where the tracks lead. I follow the trained hunters but keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

We follow the trail until nightfall finds us scouting the edges of a small camp. A fire blazes at the heart of a ring of tents, but we stick to the shadows. After gathering as much information as we can, we regroup a safe distance away.

We come up with a plan and set it into motion. I wait in the darkness with two others while the rest shoot arrows into the men at non-vital but crippling points. As they drop or move to grab their weapons, we dart in and incapacitate them. It's disappointingly easy.

"Which one of you killed the little boy?" I ask loudly, sharp eyes darting from one face to the other.

"We have no idea what you're talking about, miss," one of them replies in a too-innocent voice. My eyes narrow and I descend on him. I pick up his bound hands and examine them clinically, feeling the bones of each finger. The man tries to hide it, but I can tell he's nervous. Keeping eye contact, I find a weak spot and snap the bone. I have to give the bastard props for only grunting loudly in reaction.

"Lie to me again and I'll break another one," I warn. "Now, I ask again, who dared to touch the little elven boy?" I have no idea why the elves seem to be deferring to me right now, but I don't really care.

"It was him!" one of the other men cries, pointing with both hands at the man with the broken finger.

I grin ferally and turn slowly to face him again. I place two fingers under his chin and apply pressure to raise his head. "Is this true, darling?" I croon dangerously.

He shakes his head to dislodge my hand but I dig my fingernails in. "No. Langlin's just trying to save his own skin."

I can see that he's expecting me to break another of his fingers. So, without warning, I kick him onto his stomach, press my foot to one of his shoulder blades, and wrench the arm back until it pops out of the socket. His scream is quite satisfying.

I haul him upright by his greasy, shoulder-length hair. "What's your answer now? Think carefully before you speak."

The man spits in my face and I shove him back into the dirt before wiping his saliva off of my cheek. He pushes himself back up and glares at me with pain-clouded eyes.

"You're not even an elf! What the fuck do you care for some knife-ear?!" he shouts, spittle flying from his chapped lips. One of the elves kicks him in his dislocated shoulder and he falls sideways, howling.

I crouch near his face. "I'll kindly ask you not to use such terms in my presence. Now answer the question."

"I already did!" he glares up at me. "No, you bitch! I didn't touch the fucking kid!"

_Too bad. I would've liked to kill you slowly._

"Very good," I say condescendingly, patting him on the head. "See? That wasn't so hard." I stand and face the rest, scanning the faces once again. I circle through the campsite, stopping at each one to examine them and explain their weak points to them.

I trail my hand down one man's ribs, stopping at one of them and digging my finger in. "If I break this rib just right, I can get it to puncture your lung. Have you ever wondered what it's like to try to breathe with only one lung? I imagine it's not much fun." A bead of sweat trickles down the man's forehead and he cringes back from me.

 _Not him._ I move on.

"It was me, you crazy cunt!" shouts one of the men I haven't gotten to yet. "And I enjoyed his every scream!"

I dart over to look him in the eyes, leaning in close. Without warning, he rears back and slams his head into my own, sending me sprawling. My vision is blurry, so I don't see him move again until he slams into me, forcing the air from my lungs. He rolls, trying to get his footing, probably to run, but I sweep my leg out to knock him down. He lands awkwardly on the hands tied behind his back and I hear something snap. Before he can move again, I pin him down, unsheathe my knife, and slice off his ear. He cries out in pain as the blood splatters across both our faces and the ear rolls to a stop a few feet away.

"Fucking bitch!" he screams, thrashing beneath me. I can see an elf moving in to help me, but I wave him off.

"Stop moving or I cut the other one off," I hiss. He stills beneath me. "What were his injuries?"

"What?" the man asks, angry and bewildered.

"Tell me what you did to him."

He grins, probably hoping to goad me into making another mistake, but the fires have turned to ice for now.

"First I broke his little legs so he couldn't run. He was a fast one, hard to catch. Didn't want him getting away again. Then I roughed him up, told him what a good-for-nothing, dirty little rabbit he was. He cried a lot. Said a lot of names. What's your name, sweetheart? Maybe one of them was yours." The smarmy grin still hasn't abated and it takes everything not to cut the lips from his face and see how well he smiles then. I stay silent, stony, so he continues. "The last thing I did was crush his pretty little elf face and watch him die slowly."

I can see the truth of it in the gleam of his eyes. _Yes. This is him._

I stand slowly, towering over him. "Then it is only fitting that you receive the same, magnified ten-fold."

Quickly, almost faster than I can react, he attempts to knock me off my feet. I jump out of the way and bring my boot down hard on his thigh, putting my full weight behind it. The bone cracks loudly and he screams.

"Let's begin, shall we?" I grin at him with fire in my eyes.

For the next immeasurable amount of time, I break as many bones in his body as I can, starting with his fingers and toes. I do it methodically. I don't want to rupture any major arteries or veins. I want this to last.

By the time I snap both collar bones, he's passed in and out of consciousness a few times.

"Stop her!"

"Oh, Maker!"

The other men have been shouting stuff like this for a while. I don't know why the Dalish don't just kill them.

"'S'yer name Rhynn?" the man slurs and I freeze. A weak smirk plays at his bloody lips. I think he bit his tongue or something. "Ya look like a Rhynn. He cried yer name the mos', ya know. 'S like he hoped you'd save 'im or somethin'.

Something in me snaps. I give a strangled cry and start pounding his face with my fists. His nose breaks and blood gushes out and coats my fingers. I keep swinging. Vaguely, some corner of my mind notes that the cries of the others have gotten louder. A sharp pain shoots through my hand but I ignore it, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Do you get off on hurting little kids?" I shout. "You sick fuck! He was just a little boy! He didn't do anything to you! None of them did!"

His face is a bloody mess. The bright red liquid splashes out from under each fist fall, coating my upper half. I bring both hands down onto the left side of his face, over and over. The same side he hurt Ghillie on. I feel the cheek shatter beneath my hands and the man gurgles in pain.

**_His eye is still intact._ **

I smile widely as I press my thumb into the left socket, gouging out the eye.

Strong arms wrap around my own, clamping them down to my sides and hauling me off that pathetic excuse for a human being _._ I thrash and scream, trying to break free.

"Let me go! He needs to die!"

"Rhynn, stop," a familiar voice commands. "He is already dead."

I'm too focused on the man, though. _He's not moving but he might still be alive. I need to finish this!_

The arms drag me away from the campsite. The other men are watching me with wide, terror-filled eyes. "I'll see you all in hell, fuckers!" I spit at them, still fighting to get free.

I'm dragged through the woods backwards. My kicking legs keep knocking into things, getting bruised and cut, but I barely feel it. A voice curses behind me.

"Let me go!" I demand again. "I wasn't done! He hurt Ghillie! I wasn't done yet!"

Suddenly, I am flung sideways into something wet. The cold doesn't hit me right away, but then the shock wears off and it feels like a million needles stabbing into my skin.

I surge up from the water, spluttering and gasping. I drag myself out of the stream and onto the rocky shore. My whole body is shaking as I kneel there, digging my fingers into the dirt.

Panting, I raise my head to find a familiar elf watching me with a look of deep sorrow on his handsome face.

"Solas?" I rasp. My throat feels raw and my right hand is throbbing. "What…?"

"I followed you," he replies simply, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh…" I sigh, looking back down at my hands. I flex them, letting the pain ground me in reality. Thinking of how I injured my hand has me curling in on myself. "Oh God…" _Did I really do that? Bash a man's head in while he was unable to fight back?_

A painful sob wrenches its way out of my chest and I press my forehead to the smooth river rocks. A hand splays gently along the back of my skull, then wraps around and guides me up from the dirt. My eyes lock with Solas' and another sob breaks free as I silently plead with him to understand.

"I know," he tells me softly and pulls me into his arms. The tears fall freely now and I sob so hard I can barely breathe. Solas doesn't tell me to calm down, doesn't say anything. He just holds me until there are no more tears to shed. Then he wipes them from my cheeks and kisses the top of my head.

Approaching footfalls have him tensing, but I remain slumped against his chest. The person comes to a stop beside us and crouches. It's one of the Dalish elves. He holds something out to me.

I take it, turning it over in my hand. It's a beautiful carving of a bird on a leather cord. Brightly colored beads adorn it. I recognize it as the necklace Ghillie kept tucked beneath his shirt at all times. He showed it to me once, told me it was his mother's.

"He would want you to have it, I think," is all the elf says before standing and disappearing into the trees where he emerged.

I slip the cord around my neck and tuck the pendant under my shirt.

Solas helps me to my feet and wraps his soothing magic around my hand, healing it quickly, then around my whole body to dry me off.

"Let's go home," I sigh wearily. Solas stares at me for a moment, but I don't know why. Then he just nods and leads me back through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaildahlas: sweetheart
> 
> Dareth shiral: safe journey
> 
> An'eth'ara: Greetings
> 
> An'daran atish'an: Welcome, The place you go is a safe place


	37. Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Finally! I'm really sorry about the long wait. First school got in the way, then Fallout 4 came out and I've known little else since lol. I really didn't mean to go a whole month without updating, though. *cringe* I feel bad about that. Sorry again!
> 
> It was really fun reading all of your comments on the last chapter. Some people agreed with what Rhynn did, and some didn't. Now you finally get to see how Rhynn herself feels! Oh, and it was also brought to my attention that the Dalish bury their dead. Oops. I'll eventually fix that, but I figure it's not a huge plot point, so it can wait.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I changed a very small portion of dialogue at the end. It was just a bit too OOC.  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, etcetera, etcetera. *waves hand dismissively*

_I pour a little more water into the clay pot, then plunge my hands in to mix the mud. After deeming it the proper consistency, I scoop up a handful and pat it into a cake. I place the disk of mud on a makeshift plate and sprinkle some seeds on top. Mycah comes over with a few sprigs of something green and begins arranging them around the edges._

_"What are you doing?"_

_We both glance up at the newcomer, a small boy with the strangest ears I've ever seen. His big, blue eyes study us. He looks like an elf or a fairy, like the ones in my books. I grin with excitement._

_"We're making mud pies," I explain. "Wanna join?"_

_The boy nods and flits over, impossibly light on his feet, to kneel beside us._

_"Here," I push the clay pot closer to him. "This is what we make the pies out of. Just take a bit and pat it out flat." I demonstrate and the boy watches intently before trying._

_He places the cake next to mine._

_"Good job!" I tell him, then start decorating it._

_The three of us work for a while. It's quiet except for the squelching of the mud and the birds chirping in the trees above us._

_Mycah is the one to break the silence. "What's your name?" he asks._

_"Ghilani," the boy replies and his voice seems to echo strangely. My hand pauses, a sprig of mint still pinched between my fingers. "Hahren…" I glance up, though I'm not sure why, and a strangled sound escapes my throat. I drop the leaves and scramble backwards. There's something wrong with his face. One side is caved in and the other is bloated and discolored. "Why?" the boy rasps, reaching for me with twisted fingers._

_I turn and run. The branches of the trees sting as I whip by them._

Why… _The boy's voice repeats in my head, pleading. My cheeks feel cool and wet and I realize that I'm crying._

_I see red in the periphery and look to the right. Flames dance through the trees, charring the trunks and sending the forest creatures scurrying. I stop running to stare, entranced by the sight._

_The wall of fire is fast approaching, but I find myself unconcerned. Welcoming, in fact. The heat is nearly unbearable now. I can feel my skin blistering, but it doesn't matter._

_I start running again, keeping pace with the flames. Or maybe they're keeping pace with me. Now, I am no longer fleeing. I am pursuing. My prey slithers through the underbrush, quick and crafty._

_The forest gets thicker the further in we go, the underbrush more tangled. It seems to twist and writhe at the edges of my vision. The tang of copper drifts on the breeze. I can no longer see my prey, but I know he's here._

_"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" I sing-song, prowling quietly through the branches. "You can't hide forever."_

_A sharp inhale ahead and I pounce. The look of terror on his face fills me with satisfaction. I grab his head between my hands and apply pressure._

_"Please!" he cries. "Please spare me, demon!"_

_That gives me pause. "Demon? Is that what you think I am?" I chuckle._

_He continues to stare at me with wide, terror-stricken eyes. "I'll give you anything you want! Anything!"_

_"There's only one thing I want from you," I growl and give his head a sharp twist._

_I stand slowly, breathing hard, my hands dripping with blood. I stare down at them, flexing the joints. I didn't even break the skin. Where is it all coming from? Not all of the blood is red, either. Different colors swirl together and I can't see my skin beneath. I try to clean them on the grass. When that doesn't work, I try a pond. I scrub and scrub, but the blood won't come off. With a cry of frustration, I slap the water. Chaotic ripples radiate out from the source._

_When the water is smooth and clear once again, I finally notice my reflection and gasp. It looks like me, but it doesn't. My eyes are completely black and they almost seem to consume the light. There are cracks in my skin, revealing a molten core, shimmering with heat._

_"What have you done, Rhynn?"_

_I twist around to find my father watching me with cold eyes. Mycah, now grown, stands beside him while Ghillie cowers behind his legs. More faces emerge from the darkness. Their eyes tell me I'm the thing under the bed, the rustling in the closet, but I don't understand why. Don't they understand?_

_"I had to do it, Dad," I beseech, crawling towards the man._

_"No, Rhynn. There is always a choice." There is no warmth to his voice, no fatherly concern. "And no child of mine would have done that," he points to the body behind me._

_"Daddy, please!" I cry, reaching out for him, but my hands are so red. "I'm still your daughter!"_

_"You're a murderer," he replies with finality and leads Mycah and Ghillie away._

* * *

I awake with a gasp, jerking upright. I can't comprehend my surroundings at first. Rough wood and stone, scratchy linen under my palms. I blow out a breath and fall back against the pillows with my eyes closed.

Without my permission, my brain replays snippets of my dream. With the clarity of wakefulness, I realize one of the faces had too many eyes and growl softly in frustration.

_Damn him._

I explicitly told him to stay out of my dreams. It seems my wishes have been ignored, but I really don't have the energy for a confrontation right now. Instead, I throw the blankets aside and roll out of the small bed.

I've been sleeping alone since a few days after we got back from the Emerald Graves. Every time I woke from another nightmare, there he'd be with his worried-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. I couldn't take more than two nights of that. It seems great, mythical gods can't fix everything, so I told him to stop trying. I'd work through it myself.

It seems he knows how bad I am at doing just that, hence the continued presence in my dreams.

I'll eventually have to speak to him, but for now I slip quietly from the small room to pad barefoot along the walls. I walk until I reach the broken part near the stables that still hasn't been fixed. Carefully, I pick my way down, testing for loose stone with my toes. It's stupid, really. One misstep and I could go tumbling. But the spike of adrenaline is a nice change from the toxic cocktail of emotions I've been trying to ignore since…

I quickly steer my mind elsewhere and focus on climbing up the other side of the hole. After pulling myself up, I dust off my hands and stroll a bit further before turning to look out into the darkness. I wrap my arms around my torso, close my eyes, and let the icy wind whip through my hair and dry the sweat left over from restless sleep. When I open my eyes, I train them upwards. The night is clear and crisp, not a single cloud in the sky. Thedas' larger moon is a thin crescent, the smaller one just peeking over the horizon. All in all, a perfect night for stargazing.

"Bright and cold, but warm. Old blankets and people made out of stars."

The soft voice isn't a surprise, but I'm not sure if it's welcome. I don't send him away, though.

"The places I lived growing up," I begin after a long minute. "They were bright. It made it hard to see the stars. But every summer we'd go camping, some place far away from any city, and Dad would teach us the constellations. Well," my lips give a half-hearted twitch, "some of them. He only knew a few."

I stop talking abruptly as my brain helpfully reminds me of my dream.

"He wouldn't say that," Cole quietly insists.

"You've never met him," I remind, holding myself tighter.

"There are a lot of memories. Good ones," Cole perches himself on the edge of the wall, feet dangling. A better person would be worried. I join him.

"Memories aren't infallible."

Cole is silent for a quite a while, long enough that I'm not sure he'll respond. But then he shakes his firmly. "No, he wouldn't call you that."

He says it with such conviction. It makes me want to believe him. I tilt my head back to gaze at the stars again. There are so many of them, it's like a blanket of light.

Suddenly, I snort. I feel Cole's eyes fall on me. "You know, I used to stare up at the sky and wonder if there was other life out there, if aliens were real. I certainly wasn't the first to do so, of course, but it's just funny now," I say bitterly.

"Because we're the aliens?" Cole asks curiously.

"No," I sigh, "because I am."

* * *

Days pass and I lose myself in work. It occurs to me that perhaps I should try to find a less obvious coping strategy.

I notice some of the others watching me, but I pretend not to. The glances range from worried to wary. I wonder how much they've heard of what happened. I wonder if they look at me now and see something other than a healer. I'm surprised by how much that bothers me.

One day, when the Inquisitor has taken a few of her companions out on a mission and the courtyard is nearly empty, the quiet starts making my skin crawl. Unable to take it any longer, I decide to go for a brisk walk on the ramparts.

I'm nearly to the stairs when my name is called in a deep voice. I turn to find The Iron Bull leaning casually against the back side of the tavern.

"Spar with me." He somehow makes it sound like both a friendly invitation and a command. I find myself complying, meeting him in the middle of the practice area.

"Hand-to-hand?" I ask, eyebrow raised. "You realize I don't stand a chance against you, right?"

Bull just grins. "I've seen you fight. You should give yourself more credit."

I eye his tree trunk arms skeptically. "If you say so. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to work on my hand-to-hand."

"That's the spirit," he rumbles, dropping into a ready stance. I follow suit and we begin circling. And circling… and circling.

_Huh._

I thought for sure he'd make the first move. Now we're just awkwardly orbiting and Iron Bull is smirking at me.

_Okay then._

When faced with an enemy larger than myself, I typically dart in and try to jab at possible weak points. I employ this strategy now.

And end up flat on my back, wheezing for air.

"What was that shit?" Bull scoffs, towering over me.

I blink up at him and cough. "A major miscalculation, apparently."

Bull laughs and extends his arm, helping me to my feet before readying himself once more. "Again."

I roll my shoulders – and my eyes, a little – and quickly try to determine my next move. I dart forward again, like before, but feint left at the last second. I last a little longer this time before ending up on the ground.

"Better," Bull helps me up again. "But you're relying too much on your usual tactic of being faster than your opponent. I'm not as slow as you think I am," he teases.

"What do you suggest?" I ask, rubbing my sore hip.

Iron Bull smiles like he's glad I asked. "You know how to spot weaknesses. Use that. But put more power behind your strikes. You're not always going to be able to dance around a problem."

It seems like sound advice, so I give it a try. As we spar, Bull continues to give me pointers. Plant this foot here, push off from it, twist like this, use the force. _Okay, maybe not that last one._

Somehow, he also manages to start a conversation with me. I decided from the moment I recognized him that I was going to avoid the Iron Bull as much as possible, precisely for the reason I'm now talking to him. He's scarily good at this.

"And here I was starting to think you were avoiding me," he chuckles, dodging a strike and countering.

"I was," I frown. "Am."

His chuckle turns into a full-bellied laugh. "You're doing an excellent job, then."

"Shut up," I grumble, twisting beneath his arm and landing a jab to his lower back. My fingers throb afterwards. _Fucking brick house, this one._

"Is it the horns? They put some people off. Others, though…" he waggles his brows lasciviously.

I snort, which turns into a gasp as my arm is locked behind my back and my face is shoved into the dirt.

"Let me up, you big cow," I squirm and he releases his hold. I stand and pull a piece of grass off of my cheek.

" _Cow?_ " he asks with mock incredulity. "You'll pay for that one."

For some reason, a few minutes of sparring later, I find myself trying to explain between panting breaths.

"It's just that… well, I know you're Ben-Hassrath."

"Not really a secret."

"I'm well aware. I meant that I know you're very good at what you do and I don't like when people can read me like a book," I have to duck to miss Bull's swing, but it still clips me on the shoulder. _Shit, ow!_

"Know everyone else's secrets but keep your own?" he challenges.

"Yes, I'm sure it keeps you up at night," I sass, feeling a bit defensive. Probably because he's right.

"No," he laughs, "not that."

That brings me up short, and he uses my distraction to take me down. Again. "But there are some things?" I ask curiously after spitting grass out of my mouth.

"Of course. We've all done things we're not proud of."

"Huh," I purse my lips. He hums. "I figured the Qun helped you justify everything, or whatever."

"Most things, yeah. I just learned how to deal with the rest," he shrugs.

"How?" I ask, softer and more vulnerable than I intended.

Bull stands up straight and holds my gaze steadily. "By figuring out what I did wrong and fixing it."

"Oh." We go back to sparring.

By the time I finally get the upperhand, I'm dripping with sweat and caked in dirt. I remembered a nerve in the shoulder and, hoping that qunari had that same nerve, I aim a powerful strike at the area. Bull's left arm suddenly goes limp and he grunts, trying to counter. I dodge and use the opportunity to slip behind him and land a kick to the back of his left knee. As it gives, I switch legs and use the other to shove him forward.

The Iron Bull finally goes down, catching himself with his good arm. Then, kneeling on the ground, he starts laughing. "Very good!" he bellows, stands, and claps me on the back, still guffawing.

I grin and try to catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my face and probably just smearing the dirt around. I glance over at Bull, who is now prodding his left arm.

"Ah… that should wear off soon…" I grimace slightly at the appendage.

"Should?" he chuckles and my grimace becomes more pronounced.

"Yeah… sorry-"

"Hey," Bull interrupts. "No apologies. That was a good move."

"Uh, thanks," I half-smile and rub my forearm. Iron Bull nods. "And thanks for…" I gesture vaguely.

"Any time," he replies genuinely.

"Well," I bounce awkwardly on my toes. "I think I'll go get cleaned up now. See you around." I give a small wave and start walking away.

"Rhynn."

I pause and look back, "Yeah?"

Iron Bull jerks his head up at the main hall. "Go talk to him. He's been wearing a hole in the floor and driving us all crazy."

I can just picture it, too. I sigh and curl in on myself. "Okay."

I leave then, but don't even glance at the door to the rotunda. _Sorry, Bull… not yet._

* * *

My bare feet slap against stone and the sound echoes in the empty corridor. Another restless night. I tried to sleep, I really did. But it just wasn't going to happen after that particular nightmare.

So here I am, wandering Skyhold aimlessly. At this time of night, I can almost imagine I'm the only one. A ghost patrolling long-abandoned halls.

My legs eventually carry me to the garden, the quietest area by far. Not even a breeze to rustle the trees. The silence makes my thoughts seem that much louder, and they were already screaming. Have been for days.

I had hoped to deal with this by just ignoring it. That always worked before. Pretend everything is normal and eventually it will be. But nothing has been the same since I arrived here, really. Why should this be any different?

I sink down onto one of the stone benches, arms hugged tightly around myself.

_I killed a man. So what? I've killed plenty of people before._

**_No. You tortured a man to death._ **

And there's it is... I took my time breaking every bone in that man's body until he succumbed to his injuries. And I enjoyed it.

I force myself to recall his screams, how he looked when I was done, and feel bile rise in my throat.

**_Demon._ **

I wonder, as he looked into the eyes of his torturer, if he really did think of me as such. I probably looked half-possessed, anyway.

**_What did Solas see?_ **

I suck in a ragged breath and curl in on myself. _No._

I abruptly stand and start walking again. As I pass by one of the rooms, something catches my eye. Faint moonlight illuminating stone features. I pause to study them.

_Andraste._

My feet carry me forward, into the room. It's small. Smaller than I would have imagined, considering this is a religious organization. I wonder at the presence of the statue as well. Was it already here or did the Inquisition have it brought in? And why didn't they choose one of the bigger rooms?

I lean against one of the walls and slide down it to sit on the floor, knees to my chest. I drape my arms over them and stare up at the stone woman's face.

_Was she real, like the elven gods?_

Probably. Such stories must come from somewhere. Whether she actually became a divine being or not… I don't know. I suppose that's rather the point of religion. Faith and all that.

I find myself closing my eyes and resting my forehead on my arms.

_What do I do?_

I don't really know who I'm asking. I just feel so confused, conflicted. There's no doubt in my mind that the man deserved what I did to him. Anyone who would dare hurt a child doesn't deserve a swift death. And yet…

_Oh, Ghillie..._

I try to imagine him as he was, full of life and possibility, not as I last saw him. The poor child didn't deserve what fate threw his way. First his mother, then just as he was recovering from that… What would he think of my actions? At the time, I was convinced it was justice, but I can no longer lie to myself. It was revenge, and I doubt that inquisitive little boy would've wanted it on his behalf.

I'm… ashamed of myself. Cole is probably right that my dad wouldn't be so cold, so cruel, but he wouldn't have agreed with what I did. Mycah either.

_Would they even recognize me if they saw me now?_

Footsteps and a quiet "oh" pull me from my reverie. I glance up to find Cullen, wearing a surprised look and holding a flickering candle. I start to get up, but he steps in, holding out his hand.

"Oh, you don't have to leave!" he rushes to say.

"It's all right. I was just sitting here," I tell him softly, half crouched against the wall.

"I didn't realize anyone would be here," he looks at me curiously now, then turns to light some of the candles at the base of the statue.

He's no longer in the doorway. I could easily slip out, find another spot to wait out the night. Instead, I find myself sinking back to the floor.

Cullen sets his candle aside and stands with his back to me, staring up at Andraste's likeness.

"What do you believe in?" he asks, breaking the silence.

I ponder the question, then shrug. "I don't know anymore."

He glances over his shoulder at me, face obscured by shadow. "Does your world have religions?"

I snort a little. "Yes."

Cullen approaches and lowers himself to the ground next to me. "You don't ascribe to any of them?"

I pick at a stray fiber on my pants. "I used to."

"Which one?" he asks, then hurries on. "If you don't mind me asking, that is!"

 _Do I mind?_ I blow out a breath. "I… no, I don't mind. Christianity. It's… a lot like your religion. One god, a prophet that sacrificed himself to save us from our sins then ascended to heaven, all that jazz."

Cullen looks thoughtful. "But you no longer believe?"

"Scripture doesn't exactly cover interdimensional travel," I answer wryly and he huffs out a laugh.

"I suppose that would be enough to make anyone doubt."

"My dad always said it's a good code to live your life by, though. Love thy neighbor, treat people the way you want to be treated, etcetera." I pause, thinking about that in the context of recent events. "I can't help but agree," I finish quietly. I scrub my hands through my hair roughly and take a steadying breath, then let my head fall back and close my eyes.

A long silence stretches between us before I roll my head to look at him. "Why are you here, Cullen?"

He grimaces and looks down at his hands. "You're not the only one that has difficulty sleeping."

"The lyrium?"

He blinks a few times, then nods.

"Have you talked to Aila about it?"

Cullen rubs the back of his neck and sighs. His hands shake. "No… I don't want her to see me like this."

"She'd understand, Cullen," I reassure. "She's a good person."

"Yeah," he smiles fondly in thought, "she is."

We fall silent for a while after that, each of us absorbed in our own problems. As the first rays of sun are peeking in, I decide maybe it's time to take my own advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Rhynn and Solas will finally talk. About time!


	38. Safe Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a better perspective on the mood of this chapter, here’s a link to the song that inspired it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-j86tzxi8s
> 
> By the way, I changed some of the dialogue at the end of the last chapter because of some OOCness. Nothing major, though. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish.

All your acting  
Your thin disguise  
All your perfectly delivered lies  
They don't fool me  
You've been lonely too long

Let me in the wall you've built around  
We can light a match and burn it down  
Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flames  
In front of us  
Dust to dust

You've held your head up  
You've fought the fight  
You bear the scars  
You've done your time  
Listen to me  
You've been lonely too long

-Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars

* * *

Courage is a funny thing. You never really know if you have it until that one defining moment. Sometimes courage finds us, and other times we find it. I've faced down creatures twice my size and walked away with their heads. I've made a lifestyle out of facing the unknown. Maybe that's courage, maybe it's just survival.

Either way, I've faced down much worse than a single conversation. Which makes my current state of mind all the more frustrating.

I continue to pace the small room, occasionally growling for good measure.

_This is fucking ridiculous! Just go talk to him!_

**_Afraid of the big, bad wolf?_ **

_Not helping._

I've spent an entire day procrastinating the dreaded talk, justifying it to myself the whole way.

_Oh, but I'm needed at the clinic!_

There were three patients, one of the other healers was dozing on a cot, and I spent the entire time folding linens.

_Ridiculous!_

I don't even know what I'm so afraid of. A small corner of my mind cries out that maybe he thinks less of me now. Maybe he won't look at me the same way anymore. Logically, I realize how stupid that is. And yet…

I growl again and grab my pillow, hurling it at the wall. It hits with a really dissatisfying _paff_ and drops to the floor. I huff and throw myself face down on the bed.

_It's the middle of the fucking night. He's not even going to be awake._

Sleep is entirely out of the question for me, though. I can tell it would be a bad night if I did. Nightmares prowl the edges of my waking mind, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. Too many sleepless nights make the bed feel dangerously inviting, though, and I sit up abruptly.

_Best not to tempt fate._

I scoot back and press myself against the rough wall, pulling the blanket into my lap to fidget with a ragged corner.

Moonlight trickling through cracks in the walls is the only source of illumination, throwing objects into sharp relief wherever it hits. The shear lack of any noise save my own breathing makes my ears buzz. And though darkness typically doesn't bother me, tonight it feels oppressive.

Sitting here in this sparsely furnished room, I feel a pang of loneliness shoot through my chest. It takes me by surprise. I usually make sure I'm too busy to feel such things. Being alone is just part of who I am and I don't see much use in dwelling over it.

But tonight feels different. I'm raw, fraying at the edges with nothing… _no one_ to hold me together. I feel untethered, unhinged, adrift…

_Cold._

I scramble off of the bed, suddenly desperate for any interaction, good or bad. I haphazardly throw on a pair of pants, but don't bother with shoes, and fling myself through the door.

I walk as fast as I can without running to his room, but come to a halt just outside as trepidation rolls through me once more. My hand is poised to knock, frozen midair, the palm suddenly clammy.

_I don't know what I'll do if he looks at me differently._

My slightly shaking hand falls to the knob instead and it twists easily. _He only locked it for me…?_

_Or maybe he'd hoped I would come._

It's a surprisingly optimistic thought, considering.

The door creaks on old hinges as it swings open. I hover on the threshold for a moment longer before stepping in quickly and shutting the door gently behind me.

Solas is a tangled mess on the bed, the blankets wrapped around his legs. It's strange. Usually he's such a peaceful sleeper. I take a few steps closer and see his eyelids flutter then pop open, stopping me in my tracks like a burglar caught mid-robbery.

He blinks sleepily a few times before my presence registers and he bolts upright.

"Rhynn," he breathes, voice husky from sleep.

"Hey," I say lamely in return.

"What are you doing here?" He looks like he can't quite believe I'm really in the room.

"I… uh…" I clear my throat. "I came to talk."

His face scrunches in confusion and a part of my brain notes how adorable that makes him look. "Now?"

I cringe a little and take a step back. "I'm sorry. I know, it's the middle of the night. I'll just… I'll just go."

He flies off of the bed, nearly tripping on the blankets still coiled around his legs like snakes. "No!" His voice sounds slightly panicked and it tugs at something in my chest. I don't move any further away. When he sees this, he seems to calm somewhat and reaches down to untangle himself. "Forgive me, I phrased that poorly. I do not believe I am fully awake yet."

"No need to apologize," I say in a small voice. "I'm the one who barged into your room while you were sleeping."

He flinches slightly at something I said but recovers quickly, beckoning me further in. "Please, make yourself comfortable," he says, lighting a candle with a flick of his fingers.

_Not sure that's possible right now, Fen…_

Nevertheless, I walk over to the chair in the corner and sit. Then stand back up a second later and go back to pacing.

"I don't know where to start," I admit, rubbing my forearm briskly. I scoff at myself, "Hell, I don't even know what I want to say, really. I just know that I owe you some sort of explanation for the past week." I still, turning to look at his calm features. "It seems I'm always doing something that warrants an apology to you," I say sadly.

Solas' face softens and he steps closer. "You do not owe me anything, _lethallan._ You needed time to grieve."

I let my eyes fall away. "It… wasn't just that." Solas says nothing, but I can tell he's listening. "I'm… I…" I groan and rub a hand over my face, "I was wrong."

He tilts his head in curiosity, so I try to find the words to explain. "What I did was wrong," I finally confess.

"Are you suggesting it was undeserved?" he asks, voice level. I can't tell what he's thinking and it makes my stomach churn.

My eyebrows snap together at his question, though. "Don't misunderstand me. That man deserved all of it and more," I spit. "But… I shouldn't have done it."

"You were more than justified in your anger," he tries to reassure, but it just makes me pace again.

"That's not the point! Who was I to decide that man's fate? Who am I to decide anyone's?! Judge, jury, and executioner, all rolled up into one!" I fume, throwing my hands in the air.

"Or perhaps you were exactly the person for such a task," Solas counters, face unreadable once more.

I glare in his direction. "Quit playing devil's advocate! What I did wasn't justice by any means! I slowly tortured a person to death! That's _revenge_!" I deflate then, anger spent, and sink back into the chair. "I never wanted to be this…" I lament softly.

"And what do you see yourself as?" he asks.

"A killer," I answer truthfully, "masquerading as a healer."

Solas comes to kneel before me and lays a hand over mine. "I have seen the way you care for your patients. There is no pretense. You _are_ a healer," he insists, eyes capturing my own. "It is in your spirit."

To my chagrin, tears begin to prick at my eyes. "I want to believe you, but I feel as if I've done nothing but kill or get people killed since this all began."

Solas thinks for a moment before speaking. "Since the moment you arrived, you have sought to better the lives of the people around you. And you have succeeded." He gives me a small quirk of his lips. "Despite efforts to alienate them with your sharp tongue, they adore you for all you have done."

I glance away from the intensity of his eyes. "Even if you're right, it doesn't excuse my actions. And I don't know how to fix it…" To my embarrassment, my voice cracks.

Solas laces our fingers together and brings them to his lips, placing delicate kisses on each of my knuckles. "Perhaps it is simply a matter of taking each day as it comes."

"That's what I've been doing for the past eleven years!" I snap without meaning to, then quickly mumble an apology.

"I cannot tell you what to do, Rhynn," he sighs softly. "Only you know what will clear your conscience. You are a brilliant woman, though. I have no doubt you will think of something soon enough." His voice and eyes are so tender, I can't help but wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.

Solas squeezes back, running his hand up and down my spine. I still feel so cold, and fragile as the first layer of ice on a pond. But Solas… Solas is warm. He's a night spent in by the crackling fire with a good book and a steaming mug of cider. One of his hands slips under my shirt and I shiver.

"Solas," I whisper.

"Rhynn." I can feel his long fingers splayed across my lower back, searing their impression into my skin. Deeper.

"This… what we have. When we started, we agreed it was for comfort, a port in the storm," I continue to speak softly, my own hands gripping tightly to his tunic.

"I remember," he nuzzles into my neck.

"I want to feel something other than guilt, at least for one night." I press my lips to the spot just under his ear. "Please, be my safe harbor."

"Always," he promises and I try not to let that one word completely undo me.

He kisses me then, so softly, so carefully. I melt into his arms and let him pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He carries me over to the bed and lays me down gently, his hands skimming up my thighs to grip my hips. I pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply, tongue slipping between his lips. He reciprocates with a hum of satisfaction, crawling over me and pressing his leg between mine. I hum at the contact.

Solas pulls away to trace my features with his eyes and fingers. "You are so beautiful," he sighs and claims my mouth again. Each kiss is headier than the last, a subtle drug that leaves me boneless and desperate for more. He's never kissed me like this before and I realize he must have been holding back, just a little. I start to wonder why, but the thought is lost when Solas tilts my chin up to press open mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

I let out a shaky breath and begin tugging the hem of his shirt upwards. Another odd thing, I note. He doesn't usually sleep with a top on. Solas takes the hint and sits up enough to let me help him out of the article. I toss it aside without looking to see where it lands, tugging him back down and running my hands over the exposed skin of his back. The muscles jump beneath my fingertips.

"Your fingers are cold," he chuckles.

"Warm them up for me, then," I reply coyly, trailing the digits in question upwards over his chest. He grabs one of my hands and runs his lips over the pads of my fingers. Then, slowly and while keeping eye contact, he takes one into his mouth.

My eyes widen and my lips fall apart to let out a ragged sigh. Solas releases the finger in favor of running his tongue across my bottom lip. I wrap my legs around him, drawing him closer. When our hips connect, we make matching sounds of pleasure.

"Solas," I whisper against his lips and his breath hitches. Hands dip beneath the hem of my shirt and move upwards, bunching up the fabric. I arch my back and raise my arms to let him pull it over my head. This, too, gets tossed aside. And then he lowers himself onto me and our bare chests press together.

_He's so warm…_

I wrap my arms around him again to hold him tightly, one hand at the base of his spine and the other on the back of his head.

"Let me feel you," I plead and he rolls us over so that I sit astride his hips. I smooth my hands over his torso, feeling each contour and memorizing every freckle. "My life is a mess," I tell him. He opens his mouth to say something, so I swoop in for a silencing kiss. Saying this is hard enough without him talking. "My life is a mess," I repeat, "but you make me feel like maybe I'll be alright again someday."

Solas' eyes seem to shine brighter, reflecting the flicker of the candle on the bedside table. He pulls me in for a searing kiss which, in my opinion, doesn't last nearly long enough. Trying to catch my breath, I trail kisses down his sternum and just inhale. He smells good. I bury my face in his shoulder.

_This man is mine for tonight._

I glance up at his face to find him watching me. Solas tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and runs his thumb across my cheek bone. I smile at him and he returns it. One kiss turns into many as he rolls us back over.

I lay my palms over his biceps as he hovers over me, admiring the feel of muscles bunching beneath smooth skin. Then I let my left hand drop to his right and drag it up to cover my breast.

Solas' lips twitch. "Impatient," he chides.

"For you? Of course I am." I pepper kisses along the sharp line of his jaw.

Then it's just us. No barriers, save for the ones I stubbornly keep around my heart. And even those have worn thin as of late.

Solas begins working his way down my body again, intentions clear. I stop him with two fingers under his chin, causing him to look up at me.

_Such gorgeous eyes… like the sea during a storm._

"Not tonight," I tell him simply. " _Isalan hima sa i'na."_ I feel proud for having remembered the phrase when his pupils dilate further.

He presses his forehead into my navel and moans quietly before moving back up. His hand hovers over my abdomen, glowing briefly.

"I'm not-"

"Merely a precaution," he assures and I understand.

Solas wraps a hand around the back of my neck and kisses me fiercely.

Then we get lost in one another. We don't talk much, but that's okay. Words aren't necessary. Neither of us is in much of a hurry, content to just stay in this moment.

My awareness is reduced to the places where skin meets skin. Solas becomes the only important thing, pushing aside all guilt, doubt, and loneliness. They have no place here. I covet each sound that he makes, tucking them away some place safe and secret. And when he whispers precious things to me in elvish, I lock the memories up to drag out again some lonely day.

When it's over, we collapse into a heap and don't move for a few moments, chests heaving as we try to catch our breath.

Solas rolls sideways and pulls me into an embrace. My thoughts are hazy and quiet for once and it's a welcome respite. The last thing I remember is lips pressed against my hair before I fall into the first real sleep I've had in over a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isalan hima sa i'na: I lust to become one with you


	39. Contemplations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Well… *coughs awkwardly* long time no see… Sorry for making you all wait an entire month for a new chapter. That's just ridiculous. I've had a lot of stuff going on, though, both good and bad. Still… yikes.
> 
> Just to let you all know, I'm going to be removing some of the smut in this story. I wouldn't do a complete fade-to-black, but they'll definitely be less graphic at least. The same would go for any future scenes. My main reason for this is that such graphic smut doesn't really fit with the tone I want for this story. There are also some personal reasons for the decision that I won't bother you with. I'm sorry if this is disappointing to any of you. I have a feeling I'll lose some readers over it, but I hope that the majority of you decide to stick around for the plot. I've got some pretty exciting stuff planned!
> 
> Anyway, though there isn't much happening in this chapter, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: The most I own of Dragon Age are the games and a concept art book.

My eyelids flutter open slowly and I blink the sleep from my eyes, awareness returning at a lazy pace. Pale sunlight spills through the small window and dances across the covers while the sounds of life drift up from below.

There's an arm draped across my waist and a solid warmth pressed close to my back. Soft exhales shift the hair on the back of my neck and an unconscious smile tugs at my lips.

_Solas._

His name is thought with such warmth that I'm almost embarrassed by myself. I shift carefully in his arms until I can see his face.

_He looks so young…_

No more tightness around the eyes, mouth relaxed from its serious line; sleep has stolen the worry and left a young man full of hope and promise. In this moment, I can easily picture him as he must have been in his youth, vibrant and proud. The surge of protectiveness that seizes me then should be unexpected, but somehow isn't.

_He should have a reason to hold his head high again_.

But with the way events are supposed to proceed, I know that his burden will only increase.

_Unless I do something._

Once again, the image of a shattered orb flashes behind my eyes.

If I tell him about it, maybe we could find a way to stop it from breaking. Then Flemeth could remain as she is and Solas would have one less thing weighing him down. But do I dare…? There's danger in changing events so thoroughly.

His eyes open, then, to catch me staring. Instead of being unnerved by waking up to someone watching him, Solas just smiles and pulls me closer.

"Some might consider it rude to leave in the middle of such activities," he teases between soft kisses to my face and neck.

I smile and turn my head to grant him access. "It's not as if I can choose when I wake up," I reply, trying to stay focused.

"Excuses," he playfully growls and pulls me on top of him.

I barely catch myself, hovering above him, my smile disappearing. "Wait."

Solas' demeanor changes immediately, brow lowering in concern as he reaches out a hand to stroke my face. "Is something wrong?"

I sigh and move myself into a sitting position beside him. "I… haven't been entirely forthcoming…" I can't seem to meet his gaze.

Solas is quiet for a moment, then he sits up too. "I'm listening."

I take a second or two to gather my resolve. "When you asked me a while ago if I knew whether you'd succeed or not… I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know, but… there's more." Solas just waits with an unreadable expression, so I take a deep breath and continue. "Your orb… it's going to break."

Solas finally reacts, expression crumbling. "So I will fail. You _do_ know." His tone is accusing.

"No," I try to remain calm. "After it breaks, you kill Mythal and take her power."

His face falls further, becoming a swirling storm of emotion. Pain, confusion, and anger are chief among them. "No…" he whispers brokenly and turns abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and hanging his head.

I swallow nervously and hover behind him on my knees, unsure of what to do. "Solas…"

"No!" he suddenly shouts and I flinch involuntarily.

After a moment of tense silence, I hesitantly reach out and lay my hand on his shoulder. When he doesn't pull away, I move closer and wrap my arms around him. This close, I can hear how ragged his breathing is and I hold him tighter, pressing my bare chest to his back.

"I promise you, _'ma_ _falon_ , we will figure out a way to stop that from happening," I whisper softly in his ear. "You don't have to go it alone anymore."

Solas' next exhale shudders out of him and he turns his face to hide whatever emotions flit over it. "And when you leave?" he asks, calm voice a façade.

"I'm not the only friend you have here," I remind him gently.

Solas scoffs, shaking his head. "You are naïve to think that I could reveal my true identity without grave consequences."

"I didn't say there wouldn't be consequences," I reply, "but there are people here that care a lot about you and would stand by you through it."

He cocks his head slightly towards me, though he's still obviously skeptical. "Do you truly believe that someone like Cassandra would even believe me?"

I give it some thought, wanting to provide a reasonable answer. "If you make it clear that none of you were ever more than very powerful mages… yes. I think your main problem with her would be a loss of trust. Cassandra doesn't give it easily; she'll feel betrayed. But if you sit down and talk to her, explain things, she should come around."

Solas sighs heavily. "Nevertheless… I cannot compromise my position here."

I make a frustrated sound and pull back some, "You need to learn to work with others, Solas. You can't just go changing the entire world without at least giving its inhabitants some warning."

"I will," he replies. "In time."

_Not quite what I was going for, but…_

"I suppose that'll have to do." I kiss the back of his neck and climb out of bed to pull on my clothing. "Well, I'm guaranteed to be here for at least a few more days. We should probably get started on research, hm?"

I tug my t-shirt over my head and wash my face using the basin in the corner. Solas stays quiet, elbows on his knees and head hung low. I walk over to lay my hand on his shoulder. "I'll be in the library. Join me soon?"

He just nods, so I turn to leave, but he catches my wrist. I look back to see his head finally raise.

"Thank you," he says simply.

"Always," I echo his words from last night and his hand squeezes before releasing.

I never even make it to the library. Two steps into the main hall, I am absconded by Josephine.

"Ah! There you are!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in so late," I keep walking and she keeps pace. I comb my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look like I wasn't having sex all night. It's grown out a bit, bringing out the frizziness. I give it up as a lost cause soon enough. "Is there a patient that needs me?"

"Not this time," Josephine smiles a little. "But there is a certain elf that just arrived, requested by yourself if I recall."

I pause, just before the doors. "Merrill is here?"

"Yes. She's waiting in the courtyard."

I grin, passing through the doors and searching amongst the crowds for her.

"This way," Josephine says, moving past me and down the stairs. "I must say, she is quite… energetic."

I chuckle. "That's one way of putting it."

Josephine leads me towards the tavern. I spot Varric first, leaning against the side of the establishment. I almost don't recognize the elf beside him. Not until she speaks. Then there's no mistaking that inquisitive Irish lilt.

_Though I suppose it's not 'Irish' here…_

"Oh! There are so many people!" Merrill exclaims, clasping her hands together and gazing about with wide eyes. Her hair is longer now, braided and draped over one shoulder. Her traveling attire consists of many layers and she carries a rustic – but beautiful – staff.

"There are more people in Kirkwall, Daisy," Varric watches her with fond amusement.

"I know, but there are so many different _kinds_ here!" Merrill's focus finally falls on Josephine and me. "Hello again!" she says to the woman standing beside me, then turns her curious stare to me.

"Lady Merrill, this is the woman who requested your presence here. Rhynn," Josephine introduces me and I give a friendly smile.

"Oh!" she exclaims, gaping at me. For so long, in fact, that I begin to fidget.

_What is she looking at? The scars?_

**_Just when you thought you could forget._ **

Varric subtly nudges Merrill's hip, causing her to blink rapidly.

"Sorry!" she blushes and twists her hands together. "It's just… you're human!"

A surprised laugh bubbles in my throat and I have to clamp my lips together to keep it from escaping.

_I should've known better than to think something like scars would phase Merrill._

"What gave it away?" I tease, smirking.

Merrill's eyes widen and she stammers. "Sorry, sorry! That was rather rude of me, wasn't it? I just thought you'd be an elf."

"Not many humans asking for your advice?"

"No," she looks sad. "It doesn't make sense. I've got plenty of human friends. And dwarf! No qunari, though… We're not all that different, though, really."

_Oh, I like this girl. Let's keep her!_

"And _that_ is part of why I requested you," I tell her truthfully. She looks slightly confused at that, but now isn't the time to explain the things I know.

Varric chuckles, "There's no one quite like you, Daisy."

"Thank you, Varric," she replies sincerely.

_How can one person be so adorable?_

"Shall I call a meeting?" Josephine pipes up.

"Eh, give us a bit, Ruffles," Varric says, starting to guide Merrill away. "I wanna show Daisy around, introduce her to a few people."

"Of course," Josephine smiles. "Bring her to the war room in an hour."

"Can do," he nods then looks at me. "You coming?"

I shake my head, "I was headed to the library when Josephine caught me."

"Well, we'll see you later then. Come on, Daisy," he starts leading her towards the tavern, "got some people in here I want you to meet. Maybe help you add a qunari to that list of friends."

"I do love meeting new people," I hear her say. "Do you think they'll mind if I ask questions?" I smile to myself as I head in the opposite direction and back into the main hall.

Unsurprisingly, when I reach the library, Dorian is perched in his usual spot. How he can look so fashionable even while doing something so mundane is beyond me. I turn into a potato when I read.

_A very educated potato._

"Ah, the illustrious Rhynn," he greets without glancing up from his book. "What brings you here?"

"The siren call of knowledge," I reply dramatically. "Shh… Can't you hear it, Dorian?"

He looks up at me then, one eyebrow raised. "Cute," he says flatly, then goes back to his reading.

"Actually," I say seriously, "do you know if there are any good books on elven artifacts?"

That grabs his attention.

"Most of the books here are complete rubbish." He stands and starts walking, so I follow. "But there are a handful that are of some repute. Here," he pulls one off of the shelf and goes to hand it to me.

"Thanks," I say, reaching for the book, but he pulls it back at the last second.

"Now I'm curious. What do you want a book like this for?" His eyes, twinkling with mischief, belie the serious tone.

I cross my arms and cock a hip, giving him a look. "A bit of light reading, actually." The tome he's holding is the size of the last two Harry Potter books combined and I can't keep my lips from twitching.

"And I'm the ugliest man alive," he retorts.

"It's good to finally see you with some humility," I tease, but when he remains stone-faced, I relent. "I'm just trying to learn more about the orb Corypheus is using."

That seems to take him by surprise. "You don't already know everything about it?"

I huff a laugh, "No. Shocking, I know."

Dorian finally hands the book to me. "In that case, I shall keep an eye out for any new tomes on the subject."

"Thanks, Dorian." I leave him to his own reading and go back down to the lower level, curling up on the couch.

I try to focus on the book… I really do. But my mind won't stop wandering. It's been nearly an hour now and Solas still hasn't shown up. Is he still in his room? ( _Our room…?)_ That's not like him. I suppose I did kind of throw some shitty news at him. He's probably taking time to process it.

Well, that makes me feel slightly better, but now I've got flashes of last night running through my head.

_It was…_ I flush just thinking about it. _It was incredible._

I'm no blushing maiden.

_Okay, so I'm blushing right now, but the latter half still holds._

My point is that I know the difference between lust and love. And this felt a whole lot more like-

_No. Not going there._

I rush to think about something else. Anything. My thoughts don't stray far and I find myself thinking about Solas' words from last night, about finding a way to make things right.

_How can I?_

How _can_ someone make up for torturing another being? It's not as if 'sorry' is going to cut it. Who would I apologize to, anyway? The guys who I made watch?

_Hey, your friend was a sick bastard, but I'm sorry for making you watch while I tortured him!_

Yeah, that would go over well.

_Fuck._

I lay my head down on the open but ignored book with a groan.

_Well, I'm getting nowhere with this._

I sit up, close the book, and leave it on Solas' desk on my way out. I head for the war room, trying to focus on the meeting ahead rather than the other nonsense floating through my head.

The others are already there when I enter. Merrill is deep in conversation with Aila, Morrigan glaring at them from across the room.

_Off to a good start…_

"Lady Rhynn is here. Good. Let's get started," Cullen says, stepping up to the table. I go stand between Aila and Josephine.

"From our reports, we know that Corypheus has a particular fascination with elven ruins," Leliana starts, leaning against the table. "Most recently, my spies have reported sightings of Red Templars near the Arbor Wilds. What we cannot figure out, however, is _why_ he seeks them out. Hence the presence of our guest," she gestures to Merrill who fidgets a bit, then she looks at me. "I think introductions are in order," the spymaster says pointedly.

I clear my throat and glance around the table. "Well, I'm sure you've already met Merrill. I requested her presence here because, while Morrigan is extremely knowledgeable concerning ancient magics," I hear a huff but don't acknowledge it, "Merrill knows more about elven artifacts and history. Plus… she's very open-minded, which is important considering what we're going to encounter in the Arbor Wilds."

"What do you mean?" Aila asks, looking concerned.

There's no delicate way to put this, so I simply state the facts. "Corypheus is after the Well of Sorrows, not an eluvian." I look over at Morrigan to find small signs of shock on her face.

"The Well of Sorrows?" she asks, brow furrowing. "But that would be in…"

"Mythal's temple, yes." She and I exchange a significant look, then.

"I'm sorry, but what is the Well of Sorrows?" Cullen's voice turns my attention away from Morrigan.

"Stories say the Well is a vessel containing the will of Mythal," Merrill supplies, then blushes. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," I tell her. "This is why you're here." She nods and strands up straighter. I turn back to the rest of the group. "That's not all, though. There will be… well, there are going to be ancient elves at the temple."

" _What?_ " they all splutter, or variations thereof.

"There are elves from the time of Arlathan that are still alive?" Merrill asks, green eyes wide with astonishment.

I nod and everyone starts talking at once.

"Quiet!" Aila commands and the room falls silent. She sets her gaze on me. "How will they react to our presence?"

_And that is why they made you leader. Always asking the right questions._

"Not well," I reply truthfully. "But only because they're trying to protect the one familiar thing they have left. They're clinging to a duty assigned to them thousands of years ago because they don't know any differently. They're slaves, literally." I look solemnly at Merrill, "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

The usually perky elf has a stricken look at first, but then her shoulders slump and her head bows. "It's really not all that surprising, if you think about it…" she says sadly.

"So, the Dalish aspire to a time when they were equal to Tevinter," Morrigan mocks. "Charming."

"Only because they do not know better," Merrill snaps back.

"Do try to reign in the pettiness for a few moments, Morrigan," Leliana scolds.

Aila clears her throat, commanding attention once again. "The point is, they will try to kill us. Yes?"

"At first, yes," I reply. "They will tentatively ally with us if we honor their ways."

"Then we have no choice," Cullen states gravely. "We must defend ourselves. Our mission is too important."

"Unfortunately, I must agree," Aila sighs. "As tragic as it is, if they attack first, we must fight back."

"It's really too bad we can't just make them go to sleep," Merrill says quietly, eyes cast downward.

My thoughts stutter and slow, then race. _To sleep, to sleep, make them go to sleep…_

A slow smile spreads across my face. "Maybe we can!" I exclaim, before spinning and running to the undercroft.


	40. Star Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises up from the ground like Mushu* I LIVE! I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but sorry again for taking so long with this! I hope the chapter makes up for it somewhat.
> 
> Disclaimer: You know the drill. Not mine, yadda, yadda.

"There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff. Keep looking up." **– Neil deGrasse Tyson**

* * *

Confused as she understandably is, Dagna comes willingly enough when I drag her from her work. She asks questions about what's going on, of course, then starts supplying her own theories before I can respond. She sounds increasingly excited with each new idea.

"No! I know! There's a man that got into a magical accident and now has an extra set of arms! And you're taking me to him to get my opinion on the matter!"

I cast a glance over my shoulder at her. "You've thought an awful lot about this… Just wait, I'll explain soon enough." As I lead her across the courtyard, I can hear Aila calling my name, but I'm on a mission.

I burst into Adan's room without preamble, startling the man and causing him to spill something viscous and blue.

"Damn it! Haven't you heard of knocking?" he shouts, hurrying to clean the mess.

"Uh, sorry…" I mutter, moving to help.

Adan turns then, eyes wide at first, then narrowing. "Should've known it would be you," he grumbles.

"Making your life miserable is my prerogative," I tease, pulling Dagna in behind me. "Actually, I have a question for you both."

Adan groans but gives me his full attention. As for Dagna, I don't think I ever lost it.

"Hypothetically," I continue, "would it be possible to create a heavy sleeping potion that can be administered via darts?"

The matching looks of incredulity I get are probably warranted.

"Why in the world would you want to do that?" Adan scoffs.

"I need a way to non-lethally take out some kinda-sorta ancient elves…" I admit.

" _What_?!" Dagna shrieks, making Adan and I cringe. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but did you just say _ancient elves_?"

"Yes…"

"Oh, this is incredible! Wait," she frowns, "why are we taking them out?"

"Because it is necessary," a new voice supplies and I turn to find Aila standing in the doorway. She gives me a stern look. "You are awful at keeping things quiet."

I shrug, unrepentant.

"Can it be done?" Aila asks the other two.

Dagna is practically vibrating. "I think I can do it! I'll just need to examine one of Rhynn's guns."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Are you trying to manipulate me?" I keep my voice stern, even though there's no actual anger behind it.

" _No_ ," she replies emphatically. I keep staring. "Okay, fine… maybe."

"Wouldn't a crossbow schematic work better, anyway?" I challenge.

"Yeah, probably," Dagna sighs. "It was worth a try…"

I give her a small grin and she returns it.

"What about you, Adan?" Aila goes on, ignoring us. "Can you create a potion that will keep a person asleep for quite a while without hurting them?"

"I can try, Inquisitor," he says in his usual straightforward manner.

"I'll take it," she nods. "I want both of you to get started on this immediately. Should you require anything, we will do our best to get it for you."

Both Adan and Dagna state their agreement and we part ways.

"As for you," Aila says to me as we walk, "I'd like you to keep remembering things and let us know as soon as something comes to mind." I nod. "And, with the exception of those two, let's keep this within my inner circle, hm?" She nudges me with an elbow.

"Yes, ma'am!" I mock salute and she gives my hand a weird look.

"Also, I need to make a trip to the Forbidden Oasis in a few days. I would appreciate your company."

I incline my head. "Aye-aye, Cap'n!"

Another look, like I've got a dick sprouting out of my forehead.

_Might as well…_

I continue on to the library, planning to try my luck with the book again. I'm not expecting to find Solas there, a tome of his own open before him. He glances up when I walk in, something vulnerable just behind his eyes.

" _'Ma falon_ …" He pauses, seemingly unsure of what to say.

"Hey," I greet softly, perching on the corner of his desk.

"Hello." He clears his throat, eyes darting from me to the desk and back. "I have… given some consideration to what you said, and I believe we may be able to come up with a way to… solve the problem."

_Oh. Well then._

"It's a lovely day, even outside Skyhold's walls. Shall we go for a stroll, m'dear?" I hold out my elbow like a proper gentleman.

Solas' lips twitch. "You seem to be in a good mood," he observes, standing and lacing his fingers through mine.

_Darn. I was hoping he'd play along._

"Well…" I grin and explain to him the situation with the elves. He's silent for a bit afterwards, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiles. An actual smile, with teeth and everything. It doesn't stick around, but it does something to my insides that I'm not sure I like.

_Stop fluttering, stupid stomach…_

And then he kisses me, quick and passionate. "I should not be as surprised by this as I am," he finally says. "You are something rare and beautiful. It means a great deal that you would think to spare them. And I must admit, I would not have thought that the Inquisition would go to such lengths."

"They're good people, Solas," I try again to convince him of their trustworthiness.

"I know," he replies quietly, then starts walking again. "How does it break?"

The question is seemingly out of nowhere, but I follow his line of thought. "I can't be certain, but I think maybe just misuse?" I shrug. "Cory, of course, is out there dribbling it around like a basketball or something. But when we finally face him, Aila will use it to tear him a new one. Probably doesn't help."

Solas frowns. "It takes knowledge and skill to use foci. Neither Corypheus nor the Inquisitor possess such and would wield it like a blunt instrument, rather than with the finesse it requires."

"There's not much we can do about Big, Tall, and Ugly, but…" I quirk an eyebrow at him, "you could teach Aila how to use it."

"A possibility…"

"Just pass it off as something else you learned in the Fade," I suggest. "It's kind of a flimsy lie, but you're innocuous enough that they let you get away with it. I can use my superpowers to predict that the orb breaking is not a good thing for the Inquisition."

There's a wry twist to his lips. "You are correct, of course, but I must still determine if teaching her without a focus is even possible. She is also not a mage, so that poses its own difficulties."

"You'll figure it out," I say assuredly. "And you know I'm here to help."

Solas presses a light kiss to my forehead. "I know."

* * *

_Ah, the desert. My old friend. Ol' buddy, ol' pal…_

I grumble under my breath as I retie the cloth covering my head.

"What?" Dorian teases. "I didn't quite catch that."

I elbow him hard in the ribs, leaving him cursing in Tevene as I trudge on. We're all walking, leading our mounts to give them a rest.

Aila stops to take a sip from her canteen. "It is ridiculously hot out here!" she gasps. "How is anything alive?" She glares heartily at a nearby plant, like it has offended her just by existing. I completely understand the feeling.

"Why do you insist on taking me as far away from civilization as possible?" Varric adds to the complaints. "What did I do and how can I make up for it?"

"Are all Southerners this pitiful in a bit of heat?" Dorian mocks.

"Bite me," I growl and the others murmur their agreement. All except Solas, of course. He says nothing, hood pulled up and looking cool as a cucumber. "How are you not even sweating?" I ask him accusingly.

"Cooling spell," he replies with a slightly smug quirk to his lips.

" _What?_ And you're not sharing?!" I plaster myself to him.

He chuckles. "That is not how it works, Rhynn."

"Ugh!" I groan loudly. "Stop holding out on me!"

"We're almost there," Aila tells us. "Just a bit further."

I unstick myself from Solas – literally; I'm very sweaty – and keep walking. Sure enough, just over the next rise, the Oasis finally comes into view.

"Yesssss!" I hiss, quickly pulling my nuggalope down the hill. There are a few exclamations behind me and some shuffling, then Varric speeds by me, going as fast as his little legs can carry him. "Hey!" I climb on my mount and urge her into a trot, quickly passing Varric.

Naturally, this leads to us all racing for the oasis. Except Solas, of course. Dorian is the first to get there, having competed just because he could. I get there soon after, followed by Aila and Varric. By the time Solas arrives, I've already stripped the saddle off of Nuggins and led her into the water.

Figuring she probably won't wander far, I let go of the reigns and flop down into the cool water with a sigh of utter relief. After a few moments, I strip off my outer layers until I'm only wearing a tank top and underwear before sinking below the surface.

When I resurface, wiping moisture from my eyes, Varric and Aila have joined me and Dorian is delicately splashing his face. Solas is behind me, unloading his things into our tent.

Varric snorts. "Why do you ride that thing?"

"Because he's good in bed," I quip back.

Varric cackles. "Not the elf! Your giant nug here," he jerks his thumb at the ridiculous beast, splashing around like a little kid in a puddle. Aila and Dorian break into laughter and I hear a suspicious cough from the tents.

I grin. "Are you jealous, Varric? If you want, I'm sure we could train a regular sized nug for you to ride."

"Hey, I'm not that short," he grumbles, splashing water at me.

I splutter and splash back. Then somebody else splashes me and it just devolves from there until we're all a bunch of kids in a puddle.

"Get in here, Chuckles!" Varric calls to Solas, who is now sitting on the ground nearby.

"No thank you," Solas declines politely, pulling out a book.

"Eh," Varric shrugs and reclines against a rock, apparently having given up.

I, on the other hand, have different plans.

"Distract him. Get him to come closer," I whisper very quietly in Varric's ear. He grins broadly, then puts on his best innocent face and starts talking to Solas. Meanwhile, I pretend to wander off, when really I use the opportunity to circle around behind Solas.

Somehow, Varric has gotten him to set the book aside and move closer to the water. I don't question the master's methods. I know I won't be able to sneak too close without Solas hearing me, so I decide on a different approach.

Solas doesn't turn until the last second before I'm bowling into him and sending us both into the water. The look on his face has me cackling loudly.

"You are a menace," he complains, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips so I just grin cheekily in response.

Things wind down from there, and as the sun begins to set the water starts feeling a bit too cold. We migrate to the camp fire to dry off, each of us laying clothing out to dry on the rocks.

After eating, I find myself lying back on the sand and watching lights streak across the night sky. There's a meteor shower tonight.

"The stars are especially beautiful out here," Dorian observes, having noticed my preoccupation.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Look at them all… It still baffles me to think of all the worlds out there…"

I hear the rustling of cloth. "What do you mean by that?" Dorian asks, curious.

My attention snaps back to the campsite as I realize how very little the people of this world know about the stars… about their own star. I sit up slowly and notice that Aila, Varric, and Solas are waiting for an answer as well.

"Um, well, do you at least know that your world is round?" I ask.

A chorus of no's and one yes. I raise an eyebrow at Solas.

"Let me guess," Varric says wryly. "Another thing you learned in the Fade."

"Yes," Solas lies calmly. "The ancient elves were able to determine it with certain devices that have, unfortunately, been lost to time."

I can almost feel the eye rolls.

"So," I continue, "I guess I'll start from the beginning… You live on something called a planet. It's spherical, but so large that it looks flat from where you stand. The sun is just another star." I grab a stick and start drawing in the sand as they slowly move closer. "The sun is the center of the solar system," I draw a circle, then draw rings around it. "Planets orbit the sun, spinning on their own axis as they do so." I use my hands to demonstrate. "Some planets are closer, while others are farther away. Your planet is in a sweet spot where it isn't too hot or too cold. Just right to sustain life. My planet is the third from the sun and is a lot like yours."

I point up at the stars and their gazes follow. "Almost every one of those stars you see is surrounded by planets. Not every sun is the same, but many of them probably have a livable planet orbiting them. And those stars you can see are only a very, very tiny fraction of the total stars in the universe. That's what I mean when I say 'think of all the worlds.'"

The camp is dead silent for a few long moments as they stare at me, or at the sky, in wonder.

"Do… do they all have people?" Dorian ponders.

"Some, most likely, though they probably look nothing like you or me. In fact, I've met a few of them." That _is_ something, at least. Despite all the horrors I've lived through, I've traveled the stars. I've met aliens. It's one bright point in the dark.

"Wow…" Aila breathes, blinking up at the stars.

"That's more than a bit humbling," Varric adds, voice rough.

I nod, smiling a little at their blatant amazement.

* * *

Solas and I are the first to retire that night, leaving the others to their mental wanderings. He's waiting for me in the Fade when I fall asleep, reaching out to take my hand.

"Varric is correct," he says.

"Hm?" I don't quite understand, still adjusting to the transition into the Fade.

"What you told us is very humbling."

"Oh, yeah," I smile. Around us, the Fade changes into a vast desert covered by a dome of stars. An idea comes to me, then, and I turn eagerly to Solas. "Do you want to see it? The universe."

Solas cocks his head to the side. "I do not follow."

I clasp his hands in mine. "Solas, let me show you the stars," I say, knowing full well how cheesy I sound. But Solas smirks and nods, so I concentrate.

Using hand movements that probably look ridiculous, I untether us from the planet's surface. Like zooming out from a picture, we fly away until the entirety of planet earth spins slowly before us.

"This is my home," I tell Solas. "Earth. Third rock from the sun."

I push us out further and the image wavers. It's darker in some areas because I don't remember where the other planets are supposed to be, but Solas doesn't seem to mind. "This is my solar system. Each planet is different. Some have breathable air, some don't. On some, you weigh less than normal and can float through the air between steps. That one over there is made up of gas," I point at Jupiter, then zoom out a lot more.

"This is my galaxy, the Milky Way." I take a moment to make the image clearer, then another to take in the beautiful spiral. "My sun is just one of those tiny pinpricks of light."

Further out again, to show many galaxies at once. "There are billions of these galaxies, Solas. As far as we know, the universe is infinite. And each of these has billions of stars, many with their own system of planets."

After that, I show him the most beautiful images I can remember. Nebulas and supernovas, pulsars and blackholes. Sometimes I can even get the images to play like a movie. I explain as I go, how a star is born and how it dies. How planets are formed and destroyed. By the end, I am mentally exhausted.

Solas has been very quiet the whole time, so I glance over at him. His eyes are glassy as he stares at the last image, the Pillars of Creation.

"It's okay to cry about the stars," I say softly with a bit of humor. "Everybody cries about the stars."

"Every time I think there cannot be any knowledge left that you have not shared, you surprise me with something even more incredible…" His voice sounds as wrecked as I've ever heard it. "Humbling is not a strong enough word."

"We're all just one person on one planet in one solar system in one galaxy in a universe full of them." I take us back to Earth, back to a desert under a blanket of stars. "It puts things into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Very much so," he whispers and squeezes my hand. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that. I've been looking forward to this chapter from the beginning.


	41. What I cannot say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops this here and slithers back into my hole*

" _It's dark and it's black_  
 _And I can never get back_  
 _To way I used to love_  
 _My heart it just ain't right_  
 _But I try with my might_  
 _But I just can't be loved._ "

\- Can't Be Loved by Elle King

* * *

 

"Whatever this place is, it must be special to you," I comment, my chin resting on Solas' shoulder. "Normally, it's duty first with you."

"Yes." He pauses. "You know that the Fade and the waking world were intertwined."

I nod.

"This was once a place of gathering for spirits of all kinds." He guides the hart to a stop. I slip off and wait for him to dismount. Solas takes my hand then and leads me toward an opening in the rock face. "A place of peace and acceptance."

Solas sets a languid pace, letting our clasped hands swing between us. I take a moment to admire his unique gait; one foot directly in front of the other. A graceful saunter indicative more of a predator than a person.

"I take it you spent a lot of time here, then," I smile indulgently.

He inclines his head, then pauses and faces me. "The Veil is thin here." He brushes his fingertips across my cheek. "Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?"

My lips twitch with a playful smirk. "I can feel you."

Solas smiles back and starts walking again. I finally tear my eyes away from him to glance around. There's a pond in front of us. Two hart statues tower above it.

I freeze, my hand falling from his.

"Rhynn?"

My eyes narrow as I gaze up at the statues. I know this place, know this scene.

_He cannot be serious._

Anger wells up and I turn my glare to Solas. "You've got to be kidding me," I say, tone flat.

"Rhynn, what is – "

"What's the point?" I fume. "I'll probably be gone in a few weeks anyway! You couldn't even wait that long?"

Solas opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off again.

"Cut and run, right Solas? Can't even handle an attachment as short as ours?" I clench my fists and my jaw and glare at a rock to my right.

All is still and quiet for a moment before Solas makes a sound of disbelief.

"You think I'm leaving you?" he asks, face betraying his confusion.

I freeze for the second time. "I – wait…" I glance up at him, now just as confused. "You're not…?"

"No," he scoffs. "What purpose would it serve? As you have stated, our time together is already so limited."

"Oh." I blush profusely, ducking my head in an attempt to hide it. Two fingers under my chin lift it back up.

"Actually." Solas pauses to swallow nervously. _Nervously?_ "My purpose in bringing you here is quite the opposite."

I cock my head in curiosity, not understanding what he means.

"You are unique," he continues, reaching out to entwine his fingers with my own. "In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade."

My heart speeds up at his words and I take a step closer.

"You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined." Solas' eyes are so soft, a light gray in the predawn light.

"You're important to me, too," I whisper. "You know that."

"I do." He smiles softly. "I know that our time is short. I have tried…" he sighs. "I can remain in denial no longer. Rhynn…" His hand comes up to cup my cheek and his eyes pierce into me. " _Ar lath ma, vhenan._ "

Only four words… four simple words… but they're enough to pull the air from my lungs and shift my center of gravity.

"No…" I breathe, devastated.

Solas' expression crumbles for only a second before it is hidden behind a mask. He takes a step back, retracting his hands.

"No," I say, a bit louder this time.

"I have presumed too much," Solas says coldly. "I will take you back to Skyhold."

"You don't get to say that to me!" I shout, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You promised!" My face feels strangely cold and it takes me a few seconds to realize that it's because there are tears running down my cheeks.

Solas flinches.

"We agreed! Nothing more than comfort! We _agreed_ , Solas!"

"I know." His eyes are downcast, shoulders hunched. "I tried, Rhynn. Truly, I did."

The fight leaves me at his words and I feel myself sinking to the cool, dewy grass. Solas kneels in front of me, placing a hesitant hand on my shoulder. I can't bring myself to reject the comfort.

"Don't do this to me," I plead in a voice not my own. It's weak and small.

Solas draws me into his arms. " _Ir abelas, 'ma falon._ I never intended to hurt you. That is the very last thing I want to do…"

I sink into the embrace and let myself cry on Solas' shoulder for a while. I can't seem to help it, anyway. Once my tears have dried up, I pull back just enough to look at his face.

"Solas, I…" He gazes back at me and it's all there in his eyes. For once, he holds nothing back… and I falter. "I cannot…"

"I would never ask for more than you are willing to give," he reassures softly.

I press my forehead to his. "I'm sorry I – "

He presses a finger to my lips to halt the apology.

"I won't… I won't stop you from saying it, though," I tell him, pressing a kiss to the digit.

Solas' eyes are so full of different emotions then, but I can't process them before he's pulling me in for a kiss. And then, delicate as the beat of a butterfly's wing, he whispers, " _Vhenan_."

I notice the slight pink hue to the sky then and stand, pulling Solas with me. "Let's watch the sunrise."

We climb to the top of the rock wall, reaching it just as the first rays of sunlight shoot across the sky. We sit on a dry bit of ground and Solas wraps his arms around me. We don't speak again until the sun is entirely above the horizon.

"Why did you believe I was ending our relationship?" Solas asks, breaking the silence.

I bite my lip and pull at the grass, not keen on answering. But Solas is ridiculously patient and I know he'll wait as long as he needs to.

"I haven't been… completely honest," I admit. Still, Solas remains quiet, waiting. "In my world, the stories of Thedas aren't books. Well, at least the main ones aren't. They're something called video games."

I can nearly feel the curiosity radiating off of the elf beside me.

I try to think of a way I can explain the concept so that he'll understand. "They're drawings that move and talk, essentially. Like a theatrical production, but not real. And they're interactive. We get to make a character and control it, and the actions we take have an impact on the imaginary world."

"Any character?"

_He sounds calm. That's good, I think…_

"Not really. In the first game, you get to play as the Hero of Fereldan. Within those parameters, though, you could be an elf, a dwarf, or a human; a warrior, a rogue, or a mage; male or female. In the second game, you could play as Hawke, male or female. And in the third game… you could play as the Inquisitor; dwarf, human, qunari, or… Dalish elf." I can't even look at Solas as I admit this.

"Ah," Solas finally responds, tone indecipherable. "So that is why you assumed I was only interested in elves."

I cringe. "Your… character was only romanceable by a female elf inquisitor."

Solas doesn't say anything more. My embarrassment and discomfort grow as the silence continues. And then he starts chuckling. _Chuckling!_

I whip around to stare at him in disbelief. He notices me looking and gives me the most knowing, smuggest smirk I've ever seen. Clearly, he's aware that I made an elven character and romanced him, and instead of bothering him, well…

I groan and shove him, causing him to topple over. The chuckling evolves into full-blown laughing, and then I'm laughing too. With boyish mirth, Solas ducks in to press a brief but enthusiastic kiss to my lips. I smile brightly and kiss him back.

_Vhenan._

* * *

"You all know why I've called this final meeting," Aila says solemnly. "Rhynn has made it clear that the Well of Sorrows is a source of great knowledge. But it comes with a price." She nods, giving me the go ahead to speak.

"Anyone who drinks from the Well will be bound to the will of Mythal," I tell them all. And it will be to Mythal, not Solas. He and I have worked out a plan and he's been teaching Aila how to use the orb correctly. Okay, so maybe it's a bit haphazard, but it's all we've got. And I'm determined to spare Solas the pain of killing one of his oldest friends, despite my indifference to the woman herself.

"What's the problem, then?" Dorian asks, shrugging. "The elven gods aren't real."

I almost can't contain my laughter at the irony of that. Solas is standing _right_ next to me.

"Actually, Mythal is," I reply. _Half-truths. That's how I'm getting through this._

Dorian laughs, as do a few of the others. Then he notices the look on my face. "Oh, you cannot be serious!"

"You're joking, right Princess?" Varric asks, looking slightly worried. "One ancient Tevinter magister aspiring to godhood is enough. Now we have to deal with _actual_ gods?"

"They weren't actually gods." Solas wasn't too keen on me saying all of this, but he didn't have much of a choice. "Just immortal, powerful, elven mages."

"Oh, just?" Varric mocks, sarcastic as ever. "Nothing to worry about, then."

The Iron Bull groans loudly. Sera is in the corner, ears covered, humming to herself.

"So the question becomes," Aila continues, "do we destroy the Well or does one of us drink?"

The war room is filled with the sounds of bickering almost instantly.

"Quiet!" Aila booms and the noise ceases. "That said, I cannot ask any of you to pay such a price. So either I will drink, or we will destroy it."

"Do you really think that wise?" Vivienne interjects coolly. "Handing the power of the Mark over to an unknown being?"

"She's right," Leliana adds. "We cannot risk that."

"Well, who else is going to do it?" Aila argues.

"I will," Merrill says, so soft she's nearly drowned out.

"Daisy…" Varric starts, no longer joking.

"No, Varric, don't you 'Daisy' me," she wags her finger at him. "I know what I'm doing."

Varric sighs and frowns, but doesn't say anything else.

Aila looks torn. "I can't ask this of you, Merrill."

"You're not." Merrill stands up straighter, then, looking every bit the First she once was. "This is my people's history. _My_ history. I cannot let it be destroyed."

"You would sacrifice your free will for the chance to preserve that history?" Solas challenges.

Merrill turns her gaze to him and I can see a fire behind those green orbs. "Yes. My clan may no longer want me, but I was trained as a First."

"This goes beyond _clan duties, da'len."_

"Then I will be a First to our people."

Solas is apparently satisfied with that because he falls silent. Merrill keeps staring at him, her expression turning curious.

"Are you sure, Merrill…?" Aila queries.

"Yes."

"I suppose that's settled, then," the Inquisitor states, though she sounds less than sure. "And the dart shooters should be ready in the next few days."

"My men have already begun marching for the Arbor Wilds," Cullen adds.

Aila nods, then pushes back from the table. "All we have left to do is wait."

* * *

The Arbor Wilds are something to behold, even filled with the sounds of battle. The tall trees create a thick canopy that dapples the afternoon sun. Colorful parrots dart in and out of the beams, chattering at one another.

A hand on my shoulder draws me back.

"Are you ready?" Aila asks and I nod, following after her. The others are already waiting at the edge of camp.

"Are we sure these will work?" Cassandra asks skeptically, examining her dart shooter.

"Don't worry," I reply. "I already tested it on Solas. Works like a charm." Solas mutters something under his breath that I don't catch.

The Seeker looks highly concerned at that. I just smile sweetly. She'll never know if I'm telling the truth or not.

"I'm quite excited to see what they look like," Merrill says, balancing strangely against her staff.

"They'll be trying to kill you, little one," Dorian reminds her gently. It's clear he's already become fond of the adorable elf.

Merrill smiles. "Oh, I know. It's still a bit exciting, don't you think?"

"Indeed I do."

"All right, people," Aila announces. "Time to get moving."

Each of us holds a dart shooter at the ready. We figured that, for the most part, ancient elves will be faster than red templars. Better to have the darts ready.

Even so, we're completely unprepared when the first attack comes.

"You didn't tell us they could turn invisible!" Dorian shouts accusingly as he dodges a dagger blow. He gives up on the shooter and attempts to incapacitate the elf with magic.

"I forgot!" I shout back, twisting away from my own attacker. Every move I make, the ancient elf is two steps ahead.

_Bluff._

I dart in as if to attack. The elf dodges quickly to the left. I take the opportunity to shift right, lift my arms, and shoot. The dart hits the elf's neck. He makes a move towards me, then falls flat on his face.

"Damn, Adan," I mutter, holding the shooter up for inspection. "That was effective."

" _Vhenan_!" Solas shouts and I duck and roll immediately. Turning, I find another elf with their daggers buried in the ground where I stood just a second ago. A blast of magic hits them and they go tumbling. I take aim and put them to sleep just like the other.

"I believe that is all of them," Cassandra states after shooting the one she'd been battling with. Then she turns to the Inquisition soldiers and orders, "Tie them up and keep an eye on them."

That's more or less how the rest of it goes. The ancient elves are a lot faster than us. Our efforts to keep them alive give us all quite a few injuries. But, eventually, we make it to the temple.

I down a healing potion or two as we walk down a long tunnel.

"I hear fighting ahead," Morrigan tells us just as my own ears pick up the sound.

Aila exits the tunnel first and creeps up to the railing to peak over. The rest of us fan out beside her. There are red templars and Wardens below and directly across from them, ancient elves. The templars and Wardens move closer. One of the elves barks something in elvish. A templar says something back, but my attention is being spent on taking in our surroundings. That is, until an impossibly deep voice begins speaking.

"These are but remnants," Corypheus drawls, approaching the elves. "They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

The elves activate the pillars at the foot of the bridge, but Corypheus keeps going.

"Be honored!" he continues. "Witness death at the hands of a new god!" He walks right into the barrier and, as his body dissolves, he crushes the skull of the elf at the front. With a loud boom, the pillars collapse. The explosion takes out the rest of the elves, along with the red templars and Wardens.

_Holy hell…_

"Remember," I say urgently, standing. "He's not dead. We need to go. _Now_."

Aila leads us quickly down the stairs and to the bridge. Halfway across, we hear a loud roar and the beat of wings.

"Dragon!" the Inquisitor shouts. "Run!"

We sprint the rest of the way and slam the large doors of the temple behind us. Some sort of magic ripples across the door, sealing it.

Aila leads us further in. Plants have nearly overtaken this part of the temple but it looks… peaceful.

"So this is Mythal's sanctum," Morrigan says, sounding bitter. "Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes."

We come upon a courtyard next. There is some sort of altar in the center and stairs on the far side that lead up to a door. Aila starts for the stairs, but I pause at the altar.

It looks vaguely familiar. When I walk up to it and the tile below me glows blue, it becomes even more so.

"I think I remember this…" I mutter and step onto the next tile to my right. It glows, too. I walk around the entire alter, coming to a stop on the last tile. They all flash and emit a ringing tone.

"It's locked!" Aila calls from the top of the stairs. "Oh, wait… What did you do?"

"This!" I call back, pointing at the altar.

"It appears the temple's magicks are still strong," Morrigan notes, coming to join me. She studies the writing on the stone. "Ancient elven… hmmm."

" _Atish'all vir abelasan_ ," Solas supplies. "It means 'Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.'"

I glance back at him and notice Merrill nearby, eyeing him.

"There is something about knowledge," Morrigan continues. "Respectful or pure… _Shiven, shivennen…_ "

"It also talks about the price of drinking from the Well," Merrill adds, leaning in to run her fingers over the carvings. "The price of duty…"

"Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path was the correct move. Now we may enter the temple." Morrigan starts walking, then pauses, frowning up at one of the balconies. "Is that a Fen'Harel statue? What's _that_ doing here?"

"Something wrong?" Aila asks, now standing at the base of the stairs.

"In elven tales, the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel, tricks their gods into sealing themselves away in the beyond for all time," Morrigan explains. "Setting Fen'Harel in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry.

"Maybe he's here to protect the temple," Merrill supposes. "My clan used to put up statues of Fen'Harel to ward off evil."

"Perhaps," Morrigan replies skeptically. "I thought the ancient elves above quaint superstitions."

"For all your _knowledge_ , Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history," Solas criticizes, tone mocking. "The wise do not mistake one for the other."

"Pray tell," Morrigan bites out, hackles rising, "what meaning does our elven _expert_ sense lurking behind this?"

Solas' lip curls. "None we can discern by staring at it."

 _Ladies, please._ I bite my lip to keep from laughing at them.

"Maybe we don't know everything," Merrill says. "It has been a very long time since Arlathan and stories tend to change when they're passed down."

I smile at her astuteness.

"We don't have time to ponder this," Aila chides. "Let's go."

With that, we climb the stairs and enter the Temple of Mythal.


	42. Stuff it, Abelas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since it seems like month-long waits between chapters has become my thing, I've decided to put a bit of a recap at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Recap of the last chapter: Solas takes Rhynn to The Break-up Spot. Rhynn recognizes it and gets angry. But Solas didn't bring her there to break up; he brought her there to confess his undying lurv. This makes Rhynn freak out, of course, like a stereotypical bachelor afraid of commitment. But even though she can't say it back, they work things out. Then Rhynn confesses that Dragon Age is a series of video games, not just books. Solas deduces that she romanced his pixelated self and finds it hysterical. Flash forward to a meeting in the war room. Rhynn tells everyone about the Well and that Mythal is real. Merrill volunteers to drink from it. Flash forward again, this time to the Arbor Wilds. Even with dart shooters, the ancient elves are proving difficult to subdue. The group eventually gets the hang of it and they make it to the temple. We all know what happens then. Corypheus "dies" and comes back to life. But thanks to Rhynn, they're already inside the temple, doors sealed. Rhynn remembers how the glowy blue tiles work and unlocks the next door for them. Morrigan and Merrill take a crack at deciphering ancient elvish while Solas internally rolls his eyes. Then Morrigan notices a Fen'Harel statue and has a lover's spat with Solas. Merrill is increasingly suspicious of our favorite bald elf.
> 
> *dramatic music* And now, on Traveler…

Our group pauses at the hole in the floor. The still-warm bodies of red templars litter the stone around us.

"We should follow them," Cassandra insists, referring to the ones that jumped down.

I shake my head, "Trust me, Cassandra. These elves take this stuff very seriously. You don't want to have to fight both them _and_ Corypheus' people."

The Seeker frowns but steps away from the edge.

"We must walk the Petitioner's Path," Morrigan tells us in her usual haughty way.

Merrill waves us over from the entrance to another room. "Over here!"

We follow her to find another puzzle. I move to the front of the group. "I've got this one," I announce. "Go take care of the others."

Aila nods and leads them away. I examine the puzzle with a critical eye. I think I remember this one, too.

I step onto the first tile and follow the path around, but pause when I see the patch of yellow tile in the middle. It's different… If memory serves me, though, the other tiles should stay lit when I step onto it.

I take a minute to assess my options, then walk a little more to the left before stepping onto the middle part. Just as I thought, the places I've already stepped on stay lit. I approach the lever and, after a bit of elbow grease, manage to move it.

With the oh-so-pleasant grinding sound of metal on metal, two gates on either side of me lift. I step back onto the tile to my right and wind around the back side of the puzzle. Then I repeat the process from before, flip the switch again, hop back on the tile, and walk out. The entire thing flares and then dims.

With a slightly self-congratulating nod, I go to find the others. I find them one and two at a time. Aila must have had them split up to finish the puzzles faster. Once we've regrouped, we head for the main doors.

Aila puts her full weight behind opening them and nearly falls through. With a red face, she straightens herself and huffs. "Well, those opened a lot easier than I thought they would…"

I glance around and can't help but agree with Merrill's quiet gasp. Despite the obvious aging – missing tiles on the mosaics, dust, and tarnished metal – the large room still holds its grandeur. I glance up at the balcony on the far side and tense.

"What is it?" Solas asks quietly, a gentle hand on my elbow.

"You'll see."

"'Tis not what I expected," Morrigan says then. "What was this chamber used for?"

Aila leads us further in. A few moments later, the doors clang shut behind us. When I glance back, a line of impressively tall elves bars our escape.

"Inquisitor…" Cassandra whispers nervously, reaching for her sword. Aila lays a gentle hand over hers and shakes her head.

Movement on the balcony catches my attention then.

" _Venavis_ ," a hooded figure says. I narrow my eyes, trying to understand and remember. _That's… Abelas? Right?_

"You are unlike the other invaders," he continues. "Some of you have the features of those who call themselves _elvhen_. And _you_ ," he looks pointedly at Aila, "bear the mark of magic which is… familiar."

_Don't look at Solas, don't look at Solas…_

"You have walked the Path and, most interestingly, have not harmed the warriors in the forest. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

"They are my enemies," Aila replies with a clear voice, "as well as yours."

Abelas seems to contemplate something before speaking again. "I am called Abelas. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the _Vir'Abelasan_."

Morrigan leans closer to Aila and whispers, "The Place of the Way of Sorrows. He speaks of the Well!"

"It is not _for_ you," Abelas warns. "It is not for _any_ of you."

"Are you truly ancient _elvhen_ , from before Tevinter destroyed Arlathan?" Merrill suddenly asks, stepping forward.

I glance warily up at Abelas, but he merely raises an eyebrow.

"The _shemlen_ did not destroy Arlathan," Abelas replies. I hear Dorian gasp. Merrill's eyes widen. "We _elvhen_ warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The _Vir'Abelasan_ must be preserved."

"Our people have lost everything," Merrill continues, back straightening. "They need you! They could learn from you!" Her voice sounds so hopeful…

" _Our_ people?" Abelas scorns. "The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing _vallaslin_? You are _not_ my people. And you have invaded our sanctum as readily as the _shemlen."_

Merrill visibly flinches, falling back a step at Abelas' vehemence and cruel words. The hurt on her face has anger welling within me.

_Time to do something foolish._

I step forward and out from behind Aila. Solas tries to grab my arm, perhaps sensing my intent, but I shrug him off. Abelas narrows his eyes when he notices me.

I hold his gaze, projecting confidence. "I could spend hours lecturing you on why that is the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard. Merrill is as much an elf as you are, so cut the self-righteous bullshit."

At first, Abelas seems too shocked to speak, but then he clenches his fists and shouts, "You _dare_ enter this place and speak to me thus?! You do not belong here, _shemlen,_ and I should have you struck down where you stand."

A snort is the only acknowledgment I give. "Like I said, I could lecture you for hours, but we don't have the time. Every second you spend looking down your nose at us, Corypheus gets closer to the Well. Now, I may be wrong, but I'm guessing you really don't want an ancient Tevinter magister with aspirations of godhood sipping from your precious _Vir'Abelasan_ like it's afternoon tea." I pause only to take a breath. "We've honored your rituals as best we could and we went to great lengths to spare your warriors. Do those seem like the actions of an enemy?"

"Perhaps not, but you still aim to steal the knowledge of the _Vir'Abelasan_."

"Not steal. We would not touch it without your permission. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Corypheus. Trust me, none of us really want to be Mythal's puppet for all time." Abelas' eyes narrow further. "But we're willing to sacrifice freedom if it means keeping the Well out of Cory's clutches."

"I would sooner destroy the _Vir'Abelasan_ than have it fall into unworthy hands," Abelas snaps, lip curled up in a sneer.

"And have it all be for nothing? We only want to keep the knowledge away from Corypheus, and perhaps use it to defeat him. Outside of that, Merrill only wants to preserve the knowledge. Surely that's better than destroying it?" I implore.

Abelas still looks furious, but he seems to contemplate my words. Finally, "Very well. If these others truly are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. I will make my decision regarding the _Vir'Abelasan_ once that is done."

 _Well, I suppose that will have to do._ I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

"We accept your offer," Aila speaks up behind me.

"You will be guided to those you seek," Abelas informs her, pointing to an elderly elf waiting by a doorway that wasn't there seconds ago.

Aila nods and starts leading us towards the door, but when I move to follow, Abelas halts us.

"No. _You_ will stay," he commands, glaring down at me.

Aila frowns, "I cannot – "

"Silence," Abelas bites out.

"It's okay," I tell her. "Go."

" _Vhenan,_ " Solas whispers, looking torn. I can tell he wants to do something, say something, but anything he does will expose him.

"Go," I insist, pushing him after the Inquisitor. "I'll be fine."

There's no choice and he knows that, so he follows her through the door.

"We won't leave you here," Dorian promises quietly as he passes by. I just nod, eyes fixed warily on Abelas.

I wait until the wall has closed behind them before speaking. "So, what is this? Do you plan to make good on your threat?"

Abelas sneers down at me. "I should."

I snort. "You can certainly try. You should know, though, that I survived for weeks alone in the Fade with a giant hole in my abdomen. I might be harder to kill than you think."

The ancient elf's head cocks to the side slightly, nearly imperceptible. Then he looks to the elves behind me. "Bring her," he orders and walks off.

As my imposing guards escort me through a different hole in the wall, I subtly take in my surroundings, looking for an escape route.

We enter a much smaller chamber, but this one looks to be in slightly better shape, like someone actually bothered to dust or something. Abelas waits, back straight and arms crossed.

I sigh. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" I reach for my dagger.

"Calm yourself, human. I wish to talk."

I pause, brows shooting up. "Oh. Well." I let my hands drop, but remain wary.

"You speak strangely, even for a _shemlen_. From where do you hail?" Abelas asks, sounding genuinely curious, if still quite condescending.

I give a brief chuckle. "I suppose I owe you that much, after insulting you in your own home." I don't owe him a damn thing, but I'll play along. "Let's just say I'm from _very_ far away."

"Answer the question."

"I'm pretty sure I did."

Abelas jerks his head and instantly I feel the cold kiss of a knife blade at my throat. I glare at him. _Fine. You want an answer? I'll give you one._

I smirk. "1442 Pine Street, Salem, Oregon, United States of America. Planet Earth, third from the sun. Milky Way Galaxy."

Despite his obvious attempt to stay aloof, Abelas still looks confused as hell. So do many of the other elves in the room. My smirk grows.

"You wanted a specific location," I continue. "I gave you the most specific one I could." Abelas still looks lost, so I take pity on him. "I'm not from this world, okay?"

His eyes widen at that, before he's able to regain composure. "Interesting," he says, nodding at the elf behind me. The knife disappears. I reach up and wipe the small trickle of blood away. "How did you come to be here?"

I roll my eyes. "Are we really going to spend time chatting or are we going to go help my friends?"

"You _will_ give me the answers I seek."

"Sheesh!" I hold up my hands. "So demanding! I'll tell you on the way, if you're that curious."

After a moment, Abelas nods and leads us down a long corridor. "Now speak," he commands.

"I don't know exactly how it happens. I just sort of disappear from one world and end up in another," I tell him grudgingly, shrugging.

"You have visited other worlds?"

"Yeah, quite a few."

"So you did not come here on purpose." It's more of a statement than a question.

"No," I answer anyway.

"You hold yourself with surprising confidence for someone in your situation," he observes.

I laugh a little. "Like I said, this isn't exactly my first rodeo. I've been to much more hostile worlds than this one." I lift my right hand and wiggle my finger stumps at him.

His eyes linger on them for a moment before snapping forward again. We walk in silence for a minute or two.

"You know you and your people won't be able to stay here, right?" I ask, breaking the silence. And I do mean silence. These elves don't make a sound when they walk. My own footsteps seem thunderous in comparison.

Abelas looks at me out of the corner of his eye, brow raised imperiously. "I have not yet decided the fate of the _Vir'Abelasan_."

Despite his general attitude, I suddenly feel pity for Abelas. I can't imagine having such a singular purpose for so long only to have it threatened.

"Whether you allow one of us to drink or destroy the Well yourself, Corypheus' forces _will_ overtake the temple. You are outnumbered and outmatched and either way there will be nothing left to guard. Nothing truly meaningful, anyway. There's a lot of good you could do outside of this place."

Abelas' lip curls. "Are you attempting to convince me to help shadows as well? They are _not_ kin."

I huff in annoyance. "They are, though! So maybe they're shorter and don't live as long. That's hardly their fault! They don't even know what really happened."

He finally looks at me again, eyes appraising. "You are human, and yet you argue for those remnants of what was."

"Not all humans are assholes, Abelas. You might be surprised if you climb off your high-horse and talk to a few."

"Or I might not."

I look straight into his eyes. "You're not better than anyone else just because you're an elf. Good and bad don't have a race."

His eyes narrow once more and he looks away. "We are here."

I debate something before opening my mouth. "Wait… I need to tell you something." I take a breath. "Mythal is still alive."

A quiet ripple passes through the small crowd of elves. Abelas stops short, whirling around.

"How could you possibly know this?"

"I'm a seer, of a sort," I lie. "Mythal survived, but had to merge with a human to stay alive."

"Our Lady yet lives…?" Abelas breathes, astonished. Then his eyes bore into me, demanding answers. "Who is this human?"

"Flemeth. They are one person, now. She may not be exactly as you remember."

A few of the other elves are now smiling, murmuring to one another.

"If you speak the truth," Abelas says, "where might we find her?"

I give him an apologetic look. "That I don't know. But I have a feeling _she'll_ find _you_."

Abelas nods. "Thank you for this information." Then he turns and opens a panel in the wall.

We emerge on the other side to looks of mild surprise from my friends. Solas' eyes assess me thoroughly, a look of relief passing over his face when he sees I am unhurt. I walk over and give his hand a quick squeeze. Merrill barrels into me, hugging me tightly and taking me by surprise. I pat her back awkwardly until she lets go.

"I was so worried!" she whispers. "You didn't have to defend me. Thank you, though."

"I don't like people who look down on others," I reply.

There are a few other elves with the group, apparently having helped them fight their way to this point. Wordlessly, Abelas gives them orders and they disappear.

"The _Vir'Abelasan_ is through those doors," he tells us. "Let us proceed."

"You have the thing Dagna made you?" I ask Aila quietly. She nods. "Get ready to use it."

Samson and a handful of red templars are gathered near a small creek when we enter.

"Samson! Ser – watch out!" one of them shouts, spotting us. His voice sounds human still, and it makes me cringe.

_You know he's taken red lyrium. You'll be doing him a favor._

**_Murderer._ **

I shake my head to dislodge the voice.

Samson turns, a cruel smirk on his homely face. "Inquisitor," he snarls. "You and those elf-things don't know when to stop. You've hunted us half across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

"Your reserves are gone," Aila replies. "So is the lyrium. Isn't it time to stand down?"

"To enjoy the mercy you showed our brothers and sisters? No, thanks." And then he launches into a stereotypical villain monologue. "Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor."

I glance over at Abelas. He looks calm, but under that I sense a growing fury.

"I'll carry its power to Corypheus," Samson drones on. "One more task entrusted to me. Being force-fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress – mind and body. I won't forget a word of the Well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable."

Aila scoffs. "Once Corypheus is that powerful, you and your soldiers will just slow him down."

Samson whirls around angrily. "You dare say that to my face? After you butchered my men? You're no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master its wisdom as he could." Samson activates his armor with a loud pop. It starts glowing red. " _This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now, with a new god. So, Inquisitor. How will this go?"

Aila smirks, palming Dagna's device. "Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away." With that, she raises the device and activates it. The red lyrium in Samson's armor shatters and he falls to the ground, crying out in pain.

"What did you do?" he murmurs, looking up at her. Then again, louder and more desperate. "What did you do?!" He stands slowly. "My armor. It's gone. The lyrium… I _need_ it! Kill them all!"

_Predictable._

I go after the creepy, fast one first. If it manages to sneak up on someone, they'll be dead in seconds. Knowing I'll lose in close-quarters combat, I reach for my throwing knives. One after another, I whirl them at the creature. Too many bounce off the red lyrium.

The thing turns, seeking out its attacker. I take a deep breath to calm myself and aim for a weak spot.

_Bingo!_

The blade sinks in between two large chunks of lyrium. The creature screams, its voice terrifying and dual-toned. And then it disappears.

"Shit!" I back up, trying to find it. All I need is an outline, a ripple, anything. But the fight is too chaotic. I can't see it anywhere. "Fuck!"

That's when I hear it… a moist, rattling breath behind me. I spin, pulling my dagger, just in time for the creature to reappear. I slice at it, but I'm not fast enough. Too quick for my eyes to track, it punctures my stomach with its spear-hands. Once, twice, a third time. The pain is overwhelming as I fall to my knees. The thing pulls its arm back to deliver the final blow, but adrenaline is already pumping through me, numbing the pain. I roll forward, grabbing its legs and sweeping them out from beneath the creature. It lands on its front. I turn and pin it, driving my dagger into its back over and over until it stills.

I look down at the bloody mess that is my stomach.

"Ugh, not again…"

It's bleeding sluggishly; certainly a lot less than I thought it would, though. And my innards somehow aren't spilling out. _Maybe I just have a magical abdomen?_

I stand slowly. The wounds still hurt like a bitch, but I'm able to push through it. I look around to find the fight is winding down. Only Samson and one of the big red templars are left, and neither are looking so good.

Abelas swings a giant hammer he pulled from somewhere, knocking the templar to the ground. With one more swing, he crushes its skull. A few moments later, Aila delivers the final blow against Samson.

I shuffle toward them, clutching my stomach and bending to gather my throwing knives along the way. Abelas, who is the closest, notices me first.

"You are injured."

"No shit, Sherlock," I grumble, wincing as I push the last knife into its sheath.

"How are you still standing?" he asks, eyeing my wounds.

"Hell if I know."

"Rhynn!" Solas calls, hurrying over. He immediately starts trying to heal me. "Your wounds are resisting again," he says, sounding worried.

I push his hands away gently and down a couple of healing potions. "I'm fine for now. Worry about me later. We're running out of time."

"Corypheus?" Aila asks, brow furrowed. I nod. She turns to Abelas. "Please, we need the knowledge from the Well. If we can't stop Corypheus, nobody will be safe."

Abelas doesn't reply, though, just forms the stairs to the Well and starts climbing them. After a second, we follow him. Solas helps me up the stairs. Cassandra heaves Samson over her shoulder and carries him up.

_Huh. Not dead then._

Abelas waits until we've all made it up, then speaks. "Do you even know what you ask?" He gazes down at the Well. "As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on… through this." He turns to us. "All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."

"It's better that knowledge remain in the Well, never passed on?" Aila challenges. "You'd rather destroy it?"

From beside me, Solas speaks up. "There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger." I glance at him, my expression purposely curious.

" _Elvhen_ such as you?" Abelas sneers.

"Yes," Solas replies. "Such as I."

Abelas looks away, back down at the Well. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and to my people." He looks at me. "And there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny." His gaze moves back to Aila. "Is that your desire? To partake of the _Vir'Abelasan_ as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

"Not without your permission," Aila assures.

"One does not obtain permission," he corrects her. "One obtains the right." He walks away from the Well. "The _Vir'Abelasan_ may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Aila nods. "We knew that before we arrived."

Abelas casts a glance at me, then nods.

"Is it possible this… Mythal might still exist?" Morrigan asks slyly.

"I was informed quite recently that she does," he replies, brow arched. Morrigan's golden eyes snap to mine and narrow. I just shrug at her.

"Do you know what really happened to her?" Merrill asks, green orbs dancing with curiosity. "Our legends say that Fen'Harel tricked her into the Beyond with the others."

"Your _legends_ are wrong," Abelas replies. "The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

"Murder?" Merrill gasps.

"She was slain," he continues, "if a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the _Vir'Abelasan_ remains. As do we. That is something."

"Are you leaving the temple?" Aila asks.

"Our duty ends. Why remain?"

"There is a place for you, _lethallin_ ," Solas hints. "If you seek it."

Abelas looks thoughtful. "Perhaps there are places the shemlen have not touched. It may be that only _uthenera_ awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind."

"You could come with us," Aila offers. "Fight Corypheus. He killed your people."

"We killed ourselves, long ago."

Solas speaks again. " _Malas amelin ne halam_ , Abelas."

Abelas nods and heads for the stairs. On his way, he pauses beside me.

"Perhaps we will meet again someday, other-worlder," he says, glancing briefly over at Solas.

I give him a slight smile. "Probably not."

He holds my gaze for a second longer before leaving.

"His name," Solas says to the group. "Abelas means sorrow. I said I hoped he finds a new name."

_Yah filthy liar._

Morrigan glances up at the eluvian on the other side of the Well. "You'll note the intact eluvian." She sighs heavily. "I was correct on that count, at least."

"Is it still a threat?" Aila asks. "Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?"

"You recall when I took you through my eluvian, I said each required a key? The Well _is_ the key. Take its power, and Mythal's last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass." She pauses, taking a step closer to the water. "I did not expect the Well to feel so… _hungry_."

"Morrigan," I say firmly and she snaps out of it, stepping back.

"Merrill?" Aila calls and the small elf moves to her side. "Are you ready?"

"I think so," she replies, glancing warily at the Well. "Just a bit nervous."

"You'll be okay," Dorian reassures, speaking up for the first time in a while. "We're all here."

Merrill nods, straightens her back, then pauses. "Do I actually drink from it?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Just walk into it."

She nods again, more decisively this time, and steps down into the water. It begins to glow as soon as she touches it. She walks to the center before falling to her knees, head below the surface. The water swirls around her, then flies outward, drenching us all.

When I'm able to clear my eyes, I can see Merrill lying still at the bottom of the Well. Dorian rushes over, kneeling beside her. After a moment, she opens her eyes and sits up.

" _Ellasin selah!_ " Merrill cries, sounding lost. " _Vissan… vissanalla…_ " She glances around at us. "I… I'm okay." Dorian helps her stand. "There's so much…" Her eyes are impossibly wide.

"We need to leave," I remind them, hobbling towards the mirror with Solas' aid. As if on cue, an enraged roar echoes through the room and I glance back to see Corypheus flying at us, Voldemort style. " _Now!_ "

Dorian just picks a dazed Merrill up and we run for the eluvian. Solas and I make it through first and he helps me sit so he can help the others. When the last of us is through, he slings my arm over his shoulders again.

"You need healing."

"I don't know, I think I look good with a bunch of holes in my stomach," I joke. He just rolls his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! There are only a few chapters left after this one. But don't panic! I have a sequel planned. It's about time I officially announced that, instead of just saying it in comment replies.
> 
> Also, I completely made up the address in this chapter. If it's real, I'm going to be impressed by myself.


	43. You're here, there's nothing I fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a happy chapter! You deserve it!
> 
> Also there are two songs in this chapter. The first is named as Rory O'More/Saddle the Pony. Here's the link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=bO24b9d8A4I
> 
> The second is a bit more flexible. If you want an idea of what I had in mind, though, click here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FJOrjRjFwM

"Let him come," I insist, leaning against the heavy, wooden table. Cullen opens his mouth to argue, but I interrupt. "We know he's coming; we'll be ready."

"Rhynn is right, Cullen," Leliana implores. "Corypheus believes we are unaware of his plans. We will catch him by surprise."

Cullen grumbles but eventually nods. "I'll have soldiers stationed around the Temple."

Aila shakes her head. "No offense, Cullen, but perhaps Leliana's spies would be better suited to the task."

"Or both," Josephine adds. "If Corypheus sees no one guarding the temple, he may become suspicious."

"Good point, Josephine," Aila agrees. "Cullen, station a small number of your men at the temple, no more than would normally be there to guard it."

"Yes, Inquisitor."

"Leliana, have your people there, too. Make sure they aren't seen."

"Of course."

"I don't believe we have anything more to discuss at the moment," Aila finishes.

I push off the table with an internal sigh of relief. Long meetings are definitely not my thing. I pass through the main hall, headed for the garden.

"Hey, Princess," Varric calls from across the room.

"Hey, Varric," I greet, changing course to meet him halfway.

"How's the stomach?" he asks, gesturing towards my still-bandaged injuries.

"Better," I tell him, patting my midsection.

"That's twice now you've walked away from wounds that would've killed a lesser woman," he teases, but I can hear the note of concern.

I frown. "Yeah…"

"Any idea why?" he gently pursues.

"Not a clue."

"Well, you're still alive despite the odds." He smirks. "Can't be all bad."

I return the smile. "True."

"Hey, we're having a game of Wicked Grace later, if you'd care to join."

I wrinkle my nose a bit. "You know how much I suck at cards, Varric."

"Eh, Curly isn't very good either, and he'll be there. It's more about taking a break."

I suddenly remember a bare-ass Cullen streaking out of the tavern and a wicked smile grows on my face.

"I'll be there."

Varric eyes my smile warily. "Is there… you know what, never mind."

"See you later, Varric!" I call cheerily over my shoulder, continuing on my previous path. Varric just sighs and shakes his head.

* * *

The sun has just dipped below the horizon when I make my way to the tavern. Solas is with me, though I think it's less about socializing and more about making sure I don't spill all his secrets in my drunkenness.

_Whatever. Maybe I can force him to have some fun._

"Well look who's here!" Bull shouts as we enter, raising a mug in greeting.

"You got his prissy-pants-ness to come? Howdja manage tha'?" Sera slurs, already well into her cups. And then she starts giggling to herself. "Heh… come…"

Solas sighs heavily. I just smile and flop into a chair.

"Good job getting Chuckles to come along," Varric praises as Josephine deals me in.

I laugh a little. "Yeah."

Someone sets a mug of alcohol in front of me, as well. I shrug and take a large swig.

When the ambassador starts dealing Solas in, he shakes his head. "Ah, no thank you."

I nudge him with my elbow. "Come on, where's the harm?"

After a moment, he sighs in concession. "Very well…"

"No need to sound so bummed about spending time with us," Varric chides, smirking. Solas just gives him a look.

"I do hope I recall the rules," Josephine says, settling back into her chair. "It's been ages since I've played."

"We playing cards or what?" The Iron Bull asks impatiently.

"Are three drakes better than a pair of swords?" Cassandra wonders, looking over her cards. "Ugh! I can never remember."

Varric shakes his head. "Seeker, remember how I said, 'Don't show anyone your hand'? That rule includes announcing it to the table."

_Well, at least I'm not the only one that doesn't know what I'm doing…_

Meanwhile, Cole is muttering to his cards.

"Don't talk to the face cards, Kid," Varric tells him, chuckling a little.

"You seem to have enough people," Cullen announces, pushing back from the table. "I have a thousand things to do."

"Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming," Dorian says. "Give it a try."

Varric urges Cullen back into his seat. "Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it's you."

"Yeah, stay a while," I add, smirking. "Have some fun!"

Cullen's eyes narrow at me.

Josephine shifts in her seat, coins clinking in her hand. "Dealer starts. Oh… I believe I'll start at… three coppers!" She goes to toss them in the middle, then hesitates. "Do you think that's too daring?" She frowns. "Maybe I'll make it one… No!" She smiles again, dropping the coins. "Boldness! Three it is!"

"Seriously?" Bull scoffs. "Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home." He tosses his own bet into the pot.

"Sounds good. I'm in." Blackwall adds his.

The others follow. I place my own three silvers in the middle.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Merrill exclaims, clapping her hands.

We play for a while, just swapping stories and laughing. I also still suck at cards, but no surprises there.

"I bet you have some pretty incredible stories to tell," Varric says to me, after Aila finishes telling us about a trip to the opera with her aunt.

I startle, not expecting to be put on the spot. "Well…" I sift through my memories, looking for one that might make a good story. "There is the story of how I lost my fingers."

"Oh, this sounds good."

Essentially, my fingers were eaten by a giant furry beast on my fourth planet, but I jazz up the events a bit. They seem to enjoy it.

"I spent ten minutes trying to wrestle my severed fingers out of that creature's mouth. I don't know what I was planning on doing with them once I got them. Eventually, I gave up. Yelled, 'Fine! Have them! I've got more!' and took off running. It didn't give chase, didn't even want the rest of me! Just those fingers!"

A chorus of laughs springs up around the table, with a few comments thrown in.

"And what about you, Mr. Storyteller?" I tease, leaning back in my chair.

Varric grins, looking around at everyone. "Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Chateau Haine? It started, as most capers do, with a trap…"

He then proceeds to regale us with Hawke's adventures with the qunari spy. I remember some of it from the game, but it's still fun to listen to. Especially the way Varric tells it.

Varric stands, raising a hand. "And then Hawke looks up and says, 'Looks like the Duke… has fallen from grace.'"

I laugh, along with everyone else.

" _That's_ how Duke Prosper died?" Josephine asks, eyebrows raised. "You know, that's almost perfect for him."

"Hawke smelled like poo for days…" Merrill laments, making Varric laugh.

"Deal us another hand, Josephine!" Aila calls, taking a drink from her mug.

Another game later and I've lost yet again. Solas, who is now sipping on a glass of wine, is playing respectably. A little too respectably… Blackwall is eyeing him suspiciously.

Out of the game, I lean back, kick off my boots, and listen to the music.

"Ugh, yer feet stink!" Sera complains from under the table.

"Well, maybe you should sit in a chair like a normal person," I joke, pressing my smelly foot to her face.

"Eugh!"

"Don't you people have any livelier music than this?" I ask, ignoring the rest of Sera's grumbling.

"I think she plays beautifully," Cole replies, gazing at Maryden and sounding almost defensive.

"Oh, she definitely does," I say. "But all the songs are a bit slow."

"If you've got a problem with our music, why don't you show us how it's done?" Bull challenges with a grin.

"I would, but I left my violin in my room."

The Iron Bull just grins harder and pulls something out from behind him.

_My violin!_

Perhaps I should be upset that he touched my stuff, but...

The others aren't looking too innocent. "You all had this planned!"

"Hardly," Varric denies, not sounding the least bit convincing. "We just thought it would be a good idea to have your instrument handy, in case you got the urge."

"Right."

"Oh, please play?" Merrill pouts. "I really wanted to hear it! I've heard so much!"

_Dirty pool, Merrill Puppy-Eyes. Dirty pool._

"Fine," I sigh, snatching my case out of Bulls' hands and laying it on my chair. I flick open the latches and prep my violin.

I walk over to Maryden, instrument tucked under my arm, bare feet padding softly on the wood floor.

"They convinced you, I gather?" she asks, looking amused.

I huff. "You were in on it, too?"

"They gave me a heads up," she shrugs. "The room is yours." She tilts her head and walks over to the bar.

I glance around, noticing many of the other patrons have paused, probably wondering what's happening. Normally, I'd be nervous as hell, but the alcohol has taken the edge off.

I quickly tune my instrument. Then I take a deep breath, glance over at the expectant faces of my friends, and launch into a lively jig.

At first, I stand still, focusing on the notes instead of the people around me. But as I continue to play, I relax some and start swaying in place. This was one of my favorite songs to play growing up and it's hard not to get into it a little.

My swaying turns into walking. I move around the room as I play, sticking to the open areas. By the time I hit the bridge, I've started dancing a bit – as much as I can while playing, that is. I'm no Celtic Woman.

That's when I realize I'm not the only one up. Many of the tavern's occupants have started dancing, alone or with a partner. I can't help but let out a small, joyful laugh.

I watch as Blackwall extends a hand to Josephine and they go spinning away from the table. Soon after, Aila grabs Cullen by the arm and drags him out of his chair. Even Solas is smiling and tapping a foot, eyes following me around the room.

I lean into the notes and bounce on the balls of my feet, moving amongst the people now. They laugh and spin, stomp their feet and swing their partners around. Cole is flitting amongst the couples, as well, smile blinding.

I let the atmosphere soak into me. I hold it in and let it back out through my music. It reminds me of those summer evenings so long ago. Of camping and playing music for days. Laughing, eating, drinking, and enjoying the company of friends. But for once, instead of the usual bitterness, I feel only joy. Joy that I can do this again, can share it with my new friends. I glance over at Solas, who is still only watching me.

_With him._

When I hit the last note, I'm breathing hard, sweat beading my forehead. It feels good.

People start clapping and cheering. I duck my head, face heating up.

"Is that the best you've got?" Dorian taunts, smiling. "Come on, impress me!"

"Play another, please?" Cole pleads, hands clasped, eyes wide from beneath the brim of his hat. "It makes everyone so happy."

"All right," I give in quickly. I glance over at the woman still leaning against the bar. "Hey Maryden, how fast can you play that thing?"

Her eyes widen, then she smiles and walks over. "Fast enough."

"I'll start," I tell her. "Jump in whenever you're ready."

She nods and I take a quick swig of my drink before starting. It's the fastest song I know how to play.

_Hold onto your mustache, Dorian._

Rory O'More was a good warm up. My fingers are able to fly over the strings now. It only gets a little difficult when I have to pizzicato. My right hand doesn't want to cooperate, but I make it work.

I'm not too far in when Maryden joins. Her quick plucking is a fitting counterpoint to my part. She picked up the tune a lot faster than I thought she would.

"I'm gonna give you the melody soon. Ready?"

She grins, so at the end of the phrase, I fall back, letting her take the lead.

Maryden's fingers move quickly, improvising a solo that isn't quite what I remember but works well nonetheless. When it becomes clear she's close to the end, I step forward and pick up the melody again.

My whole body jerks with the motions of my bow arm. Each note is short and firm, my left hand running up and down the fingerboard. Sometimes, I play on two strings at once, getting that wonderful dual-toned fiddle sound.

I pass the lead back to Maryden, taking the opportunity to look around the room. People are up and dancing again, ruddy-faced and smiling. Merrill has grabbed Cole by the hands and they're skipping in a circle. The poor boy looks a little overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, but still happy. I laugh out loud at that.

Maryden reaches the end of her part and I jump back in, quite literally. This part of the song calls for it. At my urging, Maryden and I both play the bridge. It's forceful, attention-grabbing. I stomp my foot on each of the downbeats. And then it releases into the melody, and my fingers are flying once again. People who aren't dancing have started clapping along.

The song changes just a bit as we reach the close, slowing at the last moment. Maryden and I hit a final chord together, drawing it out. I let my bow reach the tip, then whip it off the strings in a bit of flair.

People cheer once more. Grinning at each other, Maryden and I bow. The clapping peters off as I walk back to the table and start putting my violin away. The Iron Bull slaps my back with a whoop and a laugh.

"That was so fun!" Merrill cries, sounding out of breath.

Even Sera is peeking out from under the table, a smile on her face. She says something congratulatory, then flops down on the floor.

Things wind down after that. Cullen and Aila leave shortly, trying to hide the fact that they're making eyes at each other and failing completely. The others trail out, one by one, until it's only Bull, Varric, and me. And Sera passed out under the table, but I don't think she counts at this point.

"Have another one," Bull urges, pushing a mug across the table towards me. I lift it in thanks and take a drink.

"Hey," Varric gets my attention. "When I invited you, you remembered something. Seemed scandalous, too. I get the feeling it didn't happen, though."

I grin and chuckle. "Yeah, sorry about that. I think my little performance threw things off."

_Am I slurring?_

"What was supposed to happen?" Iron Bull asks.

"Oh, just Cullen losing horribly to Josephine and having to run back to his room buck-naked."

Both men crack up at that. Bull pounds the table hard with his fist, rattling the dishes.

"Oh man, I wish I could've seen that!"

"It was a fair trade, though," Varric says, patting me on the shoulder.

* * *

Solas stirs, looking up from his book at the empty spot in the bed next to him. He frowns, setting the tome aside and tossing the blankets back. It's been some time since he left Rhynn in the tavern. Perhaps he should check on her.

He throws on his shirt and vest and makes his way down to the establishment. Warm light spills from the windows, so he figures she must still be inside.

Solas pulls the door open and steps through. The air is warm and smells of alcohol and sweat. Not exactly the most pleasant combination. His nose wrinkles in distaste.

Someone is playing the flute, and rather poorly at that. Solas somehow isn't surprised when he follows the sound to find Rhynn. She's lying flat on the table, brow furrowed in concentration, and blowing into the instrument like her life depends on it. The song sounds like it was supposed to be sad and powerful, but… well…

Rhynn catches sight of him and stops playing, pointing at him forcefully.

"You're here!" She sings loudly. "There's nothing I fear!" Solas suddenly wonders if she's actually singing about him. Despite her inebriation, it's touching. "And I know that my heart will go on. We'll stay forever this way!" Then she closes her eyes, tears leaking from the corners. Solas realizes it's just a song from her world and she is _very_ drunk.

"You are safe in my heart and my heart will go on and on…" Rhynn's voice trails off and she brings the flute back up to her lips and starts playing again, softly.

From across the table, The Iron Bull sighs, head resting on his fist. "This song is so sad…"

Solas rolls his eyes and moves to scoop Rhynn into his arms. She goes limp, not even trying to grip onto him. He grunts and adjusts his hold.

"Time to go, _vhenan._ "

"Why did he let go, Solas?" she sobs. "There was room for two on the door…"

He has absolutely no idea what she's talking about. "I am sure he had his reasons."

"You're so bald," she suddenly announces, reaching up to touch his scalp. He can hear Varric chuckling into his cup. "If I stroke your head, will I get lucky?"

Varric's chuckling turns into choking as he tries to both drink and laugh at the same time. Solas throws a scathing look at him which, of course, has about as much of an affect as usual.

"Varric, are you okay?" Rhynn asks, sounding really concerned.

"Yeah, Princess," he replies, still coughing. "Just laughed at a bad time."

"Why were you laughing – oh!" Rhynn suddenly smirks and tries to wag her finger at the dwarf. "Varric, naughty! I didn't mean it like that!" Then, faster than Solas thought her capable of in this state, she swings her arm around and slaps him in the face, dragging the hand down to his chest. "Or maybe I did…" she waggles her eyebrows at him.

_Ow._

With a stinging cheek, Solas decides it really is time to leave.

"Can we have sex?" Rhynn asks excitedly, licking at his neck. Even as sloppy as she's being, it still feels good and Solas has to bite back a groan.

Solas smirks at her. "If you are still awake when we reach our quarters, then yes." He knows that won't be the case.

"Awesome!" she shouts, pumping a fist into the air and nearly clipping his jaw.

Solas carries her through the courtyard and into the main part of the fortress. Despite her best efforts, Rhynn is sound asleep by the time they get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already posted this on tumblr, but for those of you that don't have a tumblr/don't follow me, I'm adding it here too.
> 
> We're coming to the end of Traveler, but as you all know, I have a sequel planned. There are going to be a lot more OCs in the sequel. Rather than come up with all of them myself, I've decided to do something a little different. So, if you have an OC that you'd like to see in my story, let me know! It can pretty much be any kind of character. Here's what I need:
> 
> -Tevinter slaves (elf or human)  
> \- ancient elves  
> \- modern elves (city or dalish)  
> \- Thedosian humans  
> \- Earth humans  
> \- probably some qunari
> 
> I should also warn you that even if you do submit an OC, they may not be used in the story. It depends on which characters fit.  
> I hope this interests some of you! I'm really looking forward to working with other people's OCs.
> 
> Also, something I forgot to mention in that post is if there's a type of spirit you'd like to see Rhynn interact with, let me know that as well.
> 
> Thank you all for being so supportive! I definitely wouldn't still be writing this if it weren't for all you beautiful people.


	44. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, people. This is the last chapter. Can you believe it? You're getting it early because I got excited. All the wonderful comments from the last chapter fueled me through this one. For those of you that replied with OC ideas, thank you! If you haven't done that and you want to, don't worry! There's plenty of time. I'll still be interested in new characters even as I write the sequel. (Also, I should add that I need Tevinter citizens of all kinds, not just slaves. I forgot that on the list!)
> 
> I also just want to say thank you again, in general, for all the support. To everyone who's stuck with me from the beginning and to all the newcomers. Just… thank you. It means a lot every time I hear how much someone likes my story. I've really enjoyed sharing it with you all and I look forward to doing the same with the sequel.

_"So won't you stay_   
_'Til the morning_   
_I've been frozen since that night you sang with me_   
_One more day_   
_For you to hold me_   
_'Cause I don't know when I'll see you again."_

\- See You Again by Elle King

* * *

I knew this day was coming… knew it with my entire being. It's what keeps me isolated and the one thing I can truly count on. No… after a decade, it really shouldn't be a surprise.

And yet, when I wake to that all-too-familiar buzzing at the base of my skull, it's like a blow to the chest.

Solas and I were together in the Fade when I felt myself waking up. He had conjured up a peaceful meadow for us to relax in. Though the sun was only a thought, it felt so wonderfully warm… and Solas' arm around me felt so damn _right._

Time passes differently in the Fade, but I felt it was still early. So I encouraged Solas to get a bit more sleep, enjoy the quiet while it lasted. And then I drifted into the waking world, only to wish desperately that I was still asleep.

At first I tried to dismiss it as a weird hangover, but no. While I do have a pounding headache, the buzzing is separate. Unique. I know it intimately, like I know the pattern of scar tissue that mars my face or the birthmark on my left hip. It's a part of me, whether I like it or not. Knowing that doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it worsens the churning in my stomach.

It is an inevitability. Time marches on, people die, and Rhynnara Lorelae Torpin will never be allowed to stay in one place.

I've been a fool. A weak, sentimental fool. But even as I chide myself, I can't seem to regret the attachments I've made here. My heart is in a vice knowing I'll never see them – _him_ – again, but there's no place for regret. I've had enough for several lifetimes and I'm tired.

So here I sit, arms wrapped tightly around my knees and crying silently.

Solas stirs beside me. "Rhynn?" he asks, voice rough with sleep. I can hear the worry.

"We've run out of time," I tell him quietly, rubbing the back of my head.

There's a long pause before strong arms pull me close. Solas holds me tightly, perhaps a bit desperately, and buries his face in the crook of my neck.

He doesn't say anything else. Neither do I. What are words in the face of _this_?

We sit together in silence, mourning the inevitable loss of something precious, until the sun rises.

* * *

Just as the sun starts casting shadows across the bed, someone knocks frantically at the door. Reluctantly, Solas detangles his limbs from mine and goes to answer it.

"Rhynn, Kieran has run off through the eluvian," Leliana says in a rush, looking unusually frazzled. "Morrigan went in after him, as well as the Inquisitor."

It takes me a minute to comprehend, but then…

_Oh!_

I leap off the bed and begin frantically throwing clothes on.

"What is happening?" Leliana implores. "I have never seen Morrigan so worried."

"I'll tell you later," I promise. "Right now, I need to hurry if I want to catch up with them."

"Should I send troops?"

"No, no need."

Leliana nods, a bit skeptically, and steps aside to let me bolt past her.

I run through the halls, narrowly avoiding knocking a few people over.

_What happens when neither Morrigan nor the Inquisitor drank from the Well?_

The thought has me running faster. I can't let Morrigan attack Flemeth. Who knows what might happen to Morrigan… to Kieran.

The mirror is still lit up when I arrive, so I don't bother slowing down. On the other side, I find myself once again physically in the Fade. It's both unnerving and energizing.

When I finally catch up, Morrigan and Aila are calling Kieran's name. Morrigan halts mid-call and whirls around.

"Where is he?" she demands.

"This way," I say, slowing to a brisk walk and leading them further into the Fade.

Some ways later, we round a corner to find Flemeth kneeling before a smiling Kieran. At our approach, the boy turns and exclaims, "Mother!" upon spotting Morrigan.

Morrigan's eyes, wide at first, now narrow. "Mother."

Flemeth stands slowly, golden eyes shimmering in the sickly light of the Fade. "Now, isn't this a surprise?"

Aila glances between mother and daughter warily. "Clearly not the good kind…"

Flemeth smirks. "My lovely Morrigan has a flair for the dramatic. Thankfully, my grandson is more sensible." She lays a gauntleted hand on the child's shoulder.

Morrigan balls her fists and steps forward. "Kieran is _not_ your grandson! Let him go!"

"As if I were holding the boy hostage," Flemeth mocks. "She's always been ungrateful, you see."

_After everything you put her through, she's earned that right!_

"Ungrateful?" Morrigan shouts, flinging her arms to the sides. "I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone!" She points her finger at her mother. "You will not have me, and you will not have my son!"

Morrigan's hands start to glow and the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand up as she gathers power around her.

_Shit!_

"Morrigan!" I warn, reaching out and clasping her upper arm.

"Let go of me." Her voice is cold.

"Consider the consequences," I urge, fingers tightening in their grip.

"It would not matter if she was Andraste herself! She _will not have my son!_ " she growls. Then her focus shifts to Kieran, who still stands beside Flemeth. Morrigan hesitates, then deflates, shoulders hunched and expression broken.

"I see you've been informed as to my true nature," Flemeth says to her daughter. "I wonder who might possess such knowledge…" Then her eyes shift to me, pierce through to my soul, and pin me in place. "I have not seen one of your kind in millennia. Tell me, have you learned to control your powers yet?"

Without waiting for an answer, Flemeth turns back to her daughter and continues talking. But it doesn't matter. All I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I stagger back, as if punched, and the blood drains from my face.

"What?" I try to ask, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

… _one of your kind…_

_Control it?_

Nothing makes sense and my vision is blurring at the edges.

_There… there are more people like me…?_

_How is this possible?_

_Where are they?_

_I can control this? How?_

_Maybe… maybe I could stay…_

**_You've never been able to before. What makes you think this time will be different?_ **

_Because I know now!_

**_Just because the witch told you? It could be a trick._ **

_I'm nothing to her. What would be the point? She had to have been telling the truth!_

A warm hand comes to rest on my shoulder, pulling me out of my whirling thoughts.

"Rhynn," Aila says softly. It's not a question; just a gentle reminder that I'm needed in the present.

I take a few deep breaths and focus once more on the conversation.

"And you follow her whims?" Morrigan asks Flemeth. "Do you even know what she truly is?"

Flemeth is smiling like this is all highly amusing to her. It probably is. "You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl. Because things happened that were never meant to happen." Her expression turns stormy now, her tone bursting with suppressed rage. "She was betrayed as I was betrayed – as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" The rage isn't so suppressed at the end, but it quickly drains, leaving a tired old woman in fancy armor. "Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance."

There's a short pause before Aila speaks. "I presume you know what we're up against."

"Better than you could possibly imagine."

"So will you help us?"

Flemeth looks down at Kieran now. "Once I have what I came for."

"No," Morrigan denies. "I will not allow it."

"He carries a piece of what once was," Flemeth replies, "snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this."

Morrigan takes a step forward, hand slashing through the air. "He is not your pawn, Mother. I will not let you use him!"

Flemeth raises an eyebrow. "Have _you_ not used him? Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?"

"That was then. Now he…" She pauses, then says with more emotion than she's probably ever expressed, " _He is my son._ "

Flemeth looks curiously at her daughter.

Morrigan continues talking, this time to Aila. "Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters, Inquisitor. That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her, and now she intends to have Kieran instead!"

Aila's brows draw together. "Wait… the way she talked about Kieran…"

Flemeth smirks again. "I am not the only one carrying the soul of a being long thought lost."

"He is more than that, Mother," Morrigan insists.

"As am I," says Flemeth, "yet do you hear me complain? Our destinies are not so easily avoided, dear girl."

Kieran speaks up for the first time in a while. "Mother, I have to."

"You do not belong to her, Kieran. Neither of us do!" Morrigan tells him, sounding panicked.

"If Kieran is so special, why did you wait until now to come for him?" Aila asks.

"I did not know where he was. Morrigan cleverly hid him from me… until now."

Morrigan gasps. "'Twas the well…"

"Did you think that, by allowing another to drink from the Well, you would be out of my reach?" Flemeth chuckles.

"Whatever else you think he is, Kieran is still a child!" Aila argues.

"And so much better behaved than his mother was at his age," Flemeth replies flippantly.

Morrigan's legs give out and she drops to her knees. "Kieran, I…"

Kieran looks up at Flemeth and a silent conversation seems to pass between the two.

"As you wish," Flemeth tells him, then turns back to Morrigan. "Hear my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again." Morrigan stands slowly, eyes narrowed. "Or, keep the lad with you… and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due."

"I will take my chances," Morrigan says quietly.

"I found you once, girl," Flemeth counters. "What makes you think I will not find you again?"

"Take over my body now, if you must." Morrigan's voice is calm and resigned. "Just let Kieran go. He will be better off without me, just as I was better off without you."

That gives the older witch pause. She looks immensely sad for a moment and then turns to face her grandson. She reaches out and takes his hands gently and, mere seconds later, a ball of light passes from Kieran's chest to her own. And then she smiles tenderly at the boy.

"No more dreams?" Kieran asks, eyes wide.

"No more dreams," Flemeth promises, still smiling.

Kieran smiles back and lets go, moving to his mother's side. Morrigan reaches out and wraps him in her arms.

"A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan," Flemeth tells her, voice devoid of its usual mocking tone. "You were never in danger from me." And then she walks away.

"Wait!" Morrigan calls, voice breaking, but the older woman never turns around.

"Come on," Aila urges softly. "Let's get out of here."

As soon as we're out of the Fade, Morrigan grabs my arm.

"Did you know this would happen?" she demands.

"Yes," I reply, feeling disconnected still.

"Why did you not warn me?!"

"Would you have believed me if I told you she wouldn't hurt Kieran?"

Morrigan frowns but releases my arm. I turn and head for the door.

**_He knew._ **

I freeze, staring unseeingly at the rough wood.

_No, he couldn't have. He would've told me!_

**_Mythal knew._ **

It… makes sense… and suddenly I'm _furious._ I whip the door open, making it bang against the wall. I'm prepared to march across Skyhold to find him – demand answers – but I don't have to go far. He's right outside, and when he sees me, his expression relaxes.

"You had me worried, _vhenan_."

I shove him into the stone wall. " _Did you know?!_ " I growl, blood rushing.

He looks completely surprised, and maybe a bit betrayed.

_Can't imagine what that feels like!_

"Know what, Rhynn?" he asks, holding his hands out in a placating gesure.

There are footsteps behind me, followed by a hand on my shoulder again. I shrug it off violently.

"Did you know there are more people like me? Did you know I can supposedly _control_ this fucking thing?!"

_Oh God, please say no…_

Solas' eyes widen and then he frowns in confusion.

"We met Flemeth… Mythal… whatever you want to call her in the Fade," Aila explains. "She implied that she's met someone like Rhynn before."

Solas looks calm but sad. He glances over my shoulder at Aila.

"Give us a moment, Inquisitor?"

I continue to glare at Solas, hands clenched into fists, so I don't see her response. But a few seconds later, I hear them walking away. Solas' attention shifts back to me.

"Mythal is much older than I am, _vhenan_ ," he says quietly. "She has likely seen much more than I have."

"That's not an answer."

"No, Rhynn," he sighs. "I did not know."

With those four words, my anger fades.

**_He could be lying._ **

I think of how he poured over tome after tome looking for a way to keep me here.

_No, he's not._

Solas notices my deflated posture and takes me into his arms. For the second time today, I let the tears fall. It's too much.

* * *

When Corypheus arrives in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, we're ready for him.

I buckle the last of my armor into place and join the others. This isn't like the game, either. All hands are on deck.

"Remember what Rhynn told us," Aila says to them. "Corypheus is going to raise the entire temple into the air. After it happens, the mages will move in and be ready to cushion our fall. That said, keep track of each other. I don't want to lose anyone to a piece of rubble." The last bit is said with a sardonic smile and a few of them chuckle. She says something else, but I'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts.

It's been two days since Flemeth… two days of focusing all my energy into pushing back against the buzzing in my head. Two days of failure. The buzzing has grown stronger, just as it always does. It's as if a swarm of wasps built a nest in my brain and now the entire back of my head feels like it's vibrating. It's distracting as hell.

I shake my head and rub at my neck.

Cool fingers slide into my hair at the base of my scalp, soothing the itch somewhat. It's strange having my neck so exposed, but my hair has grown; I actually had to tie it up this morning.

"No improvement?" Solas asks quietly.

I just shake my head.

"Let's go, people," Aila calls. "We've got a crazy magister to put down."

The Iron Bull gives an excited whoop and hoists his battle-axe onto his back. The rest of us follow suit and fall in behind the Inquisitor.

"You ready, Daisy?" Varric asks the elf at his side.

She nods, then says, "Hawke is going to be so jealous. Maybe I'll let him ride on my back, next time I see him."

Varric chuckles and pats her arm. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

When we arrive at the temple, boulders have already begun floating. We get there just in time to see a group of demons slaughtering the guards, Corypheus standing some ways back and watching the carnage with a pleased expression. Cassandra drives her sword through the nearest demon, quickly ending it.

"I knew you would come," the magister says smugly and gives Aila a mocking bow.

"It ends here, Corypheus," she replies, drawing her sword.

"And so it shall." Red lightening crackles from his fingertips and into the ground. With glowing fists, Corypheus pulls upward and the rock beneath us shivers and cracks. I hear it behind me, too close. I whirl, instinctively catching Solas' arm as he starts to tumble backwards. We had arranged ourselves so the melee fighters were in the front and ranged ones were in the back.

"Shit!" I curse as we soar into the air, leaving Dorian, Varric, Sera, and Vivienne behind.

_Well there goes our plan… and hours of rehearsal._

"You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget what you are," Corypheus continues in his growling voice. "A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A _gnat_. We shall prove – "

Corypheus is interrupted by a throwing knife to the shoulder. Mine, of course. He roars in anger, pulling the knife out and tossing it to the ground.

"Rhynn!" Aila hisses.

"He was talking too much," I grumble.

"You dare!" Corypheus booms as his dragon crawls over the wall above him. Just as it's about to attack, Merrill, in dragon form, swoops in. The two go spiraling over the edge, clawing and biting at one another. Were it any other time, I'd probably find the sight of Merrill as a dragon highly amusing. But, well…

"A dragon," the darkspawn magister drawls. "How clever of you. It will avail you nothing."

The Inquisitor gestures for us to flank him while she, Cassandra, and Bull go for the frontal approach.

"You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will!"

_Why are bad guys always so damn chatty?_

I throw another knife at him, aiming for a soft spot. There aren't many, so it's not surprising when the blade glances off. It still pisses me off though and I growl to myself, pulling out my pistol.

_I've missed you, beautiful._

I take aim and fire, feeling a little smug. At the last second, though, Corypheus disappears, only to reappear some ways off.

"Fuck."

I hear a demonic shriek behind me. Holding my gun in one hand, I unsheathe my dagger with the other and lash out as I whirl around. Luckily, it's just a shade and I'm able to quickly dispatch it with a few more jabs and slashes.

Before it even hits the ground, I'm turning my attention back to Corypheus.

_Okay, just breathe, Rhynn. Time your shots._

I breathe in, hold it, and squeeze the trigger. The bullet hits him, but it looks like it struck one of the red lyrium plates. It still clearly hurt, though, judging by the way he's shouting.

_Does he ever shut up?_

**_He will when he's dead._ **

I grin.

In the blink of an eye, Corypheus is gone.

"On the balcony!" Blackwall shouts.

Sure enough, there's Corypheus, lording over us all and shooting red bolts of energy.

Aila runs for the stairs, determination in every movement. I dart after her, gun at the ready. Some of the others finish off the last of the demons before following.

I continue to take shots at Corypheus as Solas stations himself beside me, killing any demons that come near. Some of my shots hit their mark; some don't. Even so, they don't seem to be having much of an effect on him.

Corypheus keeps leading us further into the temple. Though we know, as we follow, that it only brings us closer to fighting his dragon, there isn't really much choice.

A few times, the demons become too much for just Solas and I have to stop targeting Corypheus in order to help. The last time earned me a few deep gashes. One of them trickles blood into my eye, but I just wipe it away and keep shooting.

As we enter a large clearing, roaring from above causes us to pause and look up. Merrill and the other dragon spiral towards the ground, caught in each other's grip. When they impact, Merrill takes the brunt of it. Her form slips back into that of an elf as she loses consciousness.

"Go check on her," I yell at Solas. "I've got these." I send a throwing knife through the forehead of an oncoming demon before spinning and thrusting my dagger into another. Meanwhile, Corypheus retreats yet again while his pet distracts the rest of the group.

The fight against the dragon is long and arduous. Bull seems to be the only one enjoying himself. Thankfully, Merrill managed to weaken in significantly. Otherwise, I doubt we would have been able to kill the thing. Certainly, none of us come out of that battle without injuries. Or more injuries than we already had, rather.

I know it's time to finally end this when we jump down from a high ledge to find Corypheus waiting for us.

We give him everything we've got. I duck in and out of cover, taking shots at Corypheus. When I can get close enough, I also throw some of my knives at him.

The bastard gives as good as he gets, though, sending out waves of crackling magic that pick us off one by one. Bull ends up behind a boulder, half-conscious and coughing up blood. Blackwall is out cold – _hopefully just out cold_ – at the bottom of the stairs. Cole fairs a bit better at first, able to dart in and out quickly and turn invisible. But, somehow, Corypheus senses him just as he's about to strike again and swings his massive arm, sending the spirit boy flying into a column.

_Cole!_

The buzzing in my head suddenly spikes, but I grit my teeth and try to ignore it.

_Not yet!_

Cassandra, though bleeding profusely from many wounds, has made protecting the Inquisitor her priority. I have to agree. Aila is the one who has been training to use the orb. We need her whole enough to finish this.

With renewed determination, I move out from behind a pillar and take aim. My vision narrows until all I see is my target.

_Breathe in._

_And squeeze._

The bullet hits home in Corypheus' chest, causing him to stagger. Realizing he's losing this fight, the ancient magister pulls the orb close and starts drawing magic from it.

"Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!" he calls desperately. "If you exist – if you ever truly existed – aid me now!" Of course, no one answers.

Aila moves closer, eyes blazing. She activates the mark and uses it to call the orb to her. There's a moment of struggle before it flies out of Corypheus' hands. It slams into the side of his face in its journey to Aila, breaking his jaw with a resounding _crack._

The orb comes to rest above Aila's palm, pulsing and flowing with magic. The Inquisitor, looking almost overwhelmed at the sheer power she now holds, hesitates only a second before reaching up and sending a stream of energy into the Breach. The whole sky crackles and then goes quiet.

Still holding onto the orb, Aila moves closer to Corypheus, a grim smile on her face. Around us, boulders start falling.

"You wanted into the Fade?" the Inquisitor challenges. And then she opens a rift… inside of Corypheus. The ancient Tevinter magister folds in on himself, screaming loudly.

With Corypheus dead, though, the temple starts to fall from the sky. The ground beneath us tilts dangerously, sending us sprawling. I gain my bearings again just in time to catch sight of something rolling quickly towards the edge.

_The orb!_

Time seems to slow as I sprint after it, dodging to avoid falling rocks. I'm gaining on it, but just barely.

_Almost there!_

Of course, that's when the temple shudders and tilts again, throwing me to the ground. I tumble towards the edge, scraping and banging against every obstacle along the way. As I'm rolling, though, I catch sight of the orb, just within my reach. I manage to get ahold of it… barely.

That doesn't help the fact that I'm still sliding.

Suddenly, a long arm wraps around my rib cage, jerking me to a stop. I glance back to see Solas, expression determined, keeping us both from falling with one hand. For a second, I think we're in the clear.

And then the ledge he's holding onto breaks and we're tumbling over the edge.

I scream as we plummet, but Solas doesn't let go of me. Something pries the orb out of my vice-like grip. There's a flash of light and a hum across my skin like the calm before a storm. I catch sight of Solas' face and his eyes seem to be glowing faintly. He closes them, and a moment later a sphere of magic encapsulates us.

We hit the ground. The sphere cushions our fall, but bursts immediately afterwards, sending us sprawling.

For a long, shocked moment, I just stare up at the now-blue sky.

_I-I'm alive!_

A frantic giggle bubbles in my throat, but before it can break, the buzzing returns ten-fold. I groan and clutch my head, pushing up onto my knees.

" _Vhenan!_ " I hear Solas calling distantly, but I can already feel myself slipping.

_No! I'm not ready! I never told him! He needs to know! Why didn't I tell him?!_

I look up at Solas, eyes wide with panic as the world fades.

_I have to tell him._

"I love – "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohoh… I'm a bastard.


End file.
